Time Turning
by Mere Illusion
Summary: Based loosely on the episode The Girl in the Fireplace, the Doctor enters the magical world in pursuit of the clockwork men who are after some sort of device. A device that could power a whole ship. A device only Hermione would have. The recent rating increase to T is due to Harry Potter/Doctor Who levels of violence only.
1. Chapter 1

I own no part of either the _Harry Potter _or the _Doctor Who _franchises. Thank you and please enjoy the following narrative.

**Time Turning **

**Part I**

"And remember, you mustn't be seen. Three hours ought to do it." And with that, Dumbledore left Harry and Hermione alone in the Hospital wing.

"What did he mean, three hours? Hermione, what are you doing!" Hermione's hand went to her hair and a look of dawning comprehension had alighted her face.

"Oh! That's what he meant…"

"What who meant?"

"The Doctor. Come on Harry!'

"Come where!" Hermione was practically dragging Harry as she raced over to the Hospital wing's broom cupboard.

"Hermione, what are you doing, we have to save Sirius! Get off me!" Before Hermione could open the cupboard door a strange light began emanating from the door jam, accompanied by an odd whirring sound.

"What the-" Harry began.

Hermione pulled open the cupboard door, only to be confronted by yet another wooden door, this one was blue.

Three thousand years after Hermione opened the cupboard, in a galaxy far, far away there was a spaceship and in that spaceship was a room.

The room was filled with odds and ends, mostly things that seemed to belong in an engine rather than where they were lying. They were old, some of them were beginning to rust. A dark blue wooden box began to phase into the room, whirring and fading before finally becoming permanently fixed there. Three people walked out of one of the double doors, though the newest recruit was practically skipping out of the blue box labeled 'Police Public Call Box.'

"It's a spaceship!" goggled Mickey Smith. "Brilliant, I got a spaceship on my first go!"

The blonde girl who followed inspected the room and said "Looks kind of abandoned… Anyone on board?"

The third personage strolled out of the box nonchalantly, making his way over to the blonde girl. The best word to describe his appearance would be brown. He wore a brown trench coat over a darker brown suit. His untidy hair was as brown as his suit and a pair of rectangular glasses covered his brown eyes. The brown eyes were alight as he too, examined the room.

"Nah, nothing here, Rose. Well! Nothing dangerous. Well! Not that dangerous." He paused for a moment before heading over to what could only be a control panel in the center of the room. "You know what, I'll just have a quick scan… in case there's anything dangerous."

Rose smirked as he started tapping at the buttons.

"So, what's the date? How far we gone, Doctor?" The brown suited man continued his inspection of the control panel, pressing buttons to his hearts' content. With a flourish the Doctor hit one last button and stared at a small screen.

"About three thousand years into your future, give or take."

The Doctor pulled a lever. The lights turned on and then the ceiling began to part above them, revealing a window to the stars above.

The Doctor continued, "Fifty-first century. Diagmar Cluster, you're a long way from home, Mickey! Two and a half galaxies!"

Rose walked up to Mickey and placed her arms on his shoulders, "Mickey Smith, meet the universe. See anything you like?"

"It's so realistic!" Mickey exclaimed.

"Dear me," the Doctor's voice echoed in the background, looking around at the unused equipment, "had some cowboys in here! Got a ton of repair work going on."

After studying one of the screens a moment, the Doctor beckoned his companions over. "Now that's odd, look at that. All the warp engines are going… full capacity! There's enough power running through this ship to punch a hole in the universe… and we're not moving. So where's all that power going?"

Rose frowned, looking around as though she was expecting something that was proving not to be there. "Where'd all the crew go?"

The Doctor leaned forward to tweak another knob on the control panel, then frowned.

"Good question, no life readings on board." He sniffed, then again. "Can you smell that?"

"Yeah," said Rose, also sniffing. "Someone's cooking."

"Sunday roast, definitely!" guessed Mickey.

The Doctor, still busy with the console, noticed an inviting red button and pushed it. There was a deep noise and the sudden rushing in of air as a wall slowly opened onto the most unlikely of scenes found in the fifty-first century. A room the complete opposite of the one the three travelers were standing in. It was circular and appeared to be walled with stone. It was hard to tell if the whole wall was made of stone because there were so many worn tapestries on them. The furniture was made of wood and the cushions were a worn sort of crimson. There was a small wooden table at the wall opposite an ornate stone fireplace. A flame burned brightly in the hearth. The doctor sprinted over to examine the new room.

"Well, there's something you don't see in your average spaceship. Medieval by the looks of it. English, that's always something you should be proud of. Nice mantel." The Doctor pulled out something metal, almost like a small torch, his sonic screwdriver. He pointed it at the fireplace mantel and then looked at the metal device. "Not a hologram. Not even a reproduction, this actually is a Medieval mantel. Date unknown." He flicked the device with his finger, but to no effect. "Must be something messing with my screwdriver. It doesn't seem to be able to get a precise date. Anyway, this fireplace appears to be double-sided. There should be another room through there."

Rose looked through a glass paned window near the fireplace which held nothing but stars beyond. "There can't be, that's the outer hull of the ship, look."

"Hmm?" The Doctor had been staring at his sonic screwdriver again, as though willing it to show him the precise date, but still nothing. "Oh, I imagine it's some sort of spatio-temporal hyperlink, or something."

"What's that" asked Mickey, wrinkling his nose.

The Doctor shrugged. "No idea. Just made it up. I didn't want to say 'magic door.'"

"And exactly what is it that you expect to find on the other side of this 'magic door?'" asked Rose playfully.

"Something interesting. Let's have a look, see."

The Doctor crouched down just near enough to the hearth to look past the flame. Inside, looking back at them curiously, was a young girl. The girl had bushy brown hair and wore what could be mistaken for a black bathrobe which obscured her grey jumper. The robe had a crest clearly visible over the left breast. She leaned her head to one side, trying to have a closer look at them. It was too late to pretend they weren't there.

"Hello, and who might you be?" said the Doctor pleasantly.

"Hermione, sir, Hermione Granger. And you are?"

"Oh, I'm nothing, just the fireplace man. Routine check. Looks as though everything's in working order." The Doctor turned to face Rose, as if to say something, but then stopped, turning his attentions back to the girl.

"That's an interesting sort of uniform your wearing, almost like a robe... Sorry, I'm not quite sure I heard your name right, did you say Hermione Granger. Surely not _the_ Hermione Granger of Gryffindor tower, right?"

"Well, of course I am _the_ Hermione Granger of Gryffindor Tower. It isn't exactly a common name, is it? I was only just sorted a few hours ago, though. Oh, I can't believe it! I'm a bit nervous about tomorrow's classes, but I've already memorized all of the books. I just hope that's enough! There are so many things I don't know yet, you see, my parents were muggles, so I've had quite a bit of catching up to do. I mean, for example, I've read _Hogwarts, A History_, but never knew there was a fireplace man in Gryffindor Tower? Surely everyone else must have already known that!"

"Well, I rather doubt it." The Doctor smiled encouragingly, "Don't worry, you're going to do brilliantly and you'll be at the top of your class. Now, err, would you excuse me a moment."

The Doctor stood up and looked gravely at his companions. "You know how I told you that this ship was generating enough energy to poke a hole in the universe? I think I just found the hole."

Rose folded her arms, her eyebrows raised skeptically. "You can't be serious. Was that really just Hermione from the Harry Potter series?"

"Afraid so. But why would anyone want to tear apart the universe and create something so massive just to get inside of a castle with fictitious wizards. Well, I mean, aside from the obvious."

"See," Rose added smugly, "magic door."

Mickey was clearly lost. "You think someone wanted to get into the Harry Potter world? But it's not even real."

"Of course it's real! It exists in the hearts of billions of people on Earth, and off it for that matter. Billions and billions of children across galaxies fantasize about receiving an invitation to study at the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry. Some of them still do, long after their eleventh birthday. Everyone knows what it looks like, who's there and everything! The only difference is that someone has materialized it. Why?" The Doctor turned back to the mantelpiece and examined it, occasionally wrapping his knuckles on the surface, listening.

Rose tilted her head to one side and smirked. "Doctor, did you fantasize about receiving a letter from Hogwarts when you were an eleven year old Time Lord?"

The Doctor, with his hand firmly grasping the corner of the mantelpiece, smiled. "Nah, it took me a few hundred years to get around to the books. And yes, I have the seventh book, with a personal note from J.K. herself. It's somewhere in the TARDIS' library. Course, why bother with that when I can look at the real thing."

He pulled the corner. There was the sound of the stone floor grinding against itself as the half circle surrounding the fireplace began to turn, carrying the Doctor with it.

"Doctor!" Rose yelled.

And then her voice was suddenly gone, replaced instead by the sound of a clock ticking and the fire crackling in the hearth. The Doctor found himself in a room, identical to the other, only without Rose or Mickey inside. He stepped away from the fireplace and peered outside a panned window where a snowy white owl glided by in the night sky.

"Hello Hedwig." He whispered happily to himself.

"Fireplace man! It's so good to see you again."

The Doctor made a small jump and turned towards the voice. At a small table at the very back of the Gryffindor common room was the young girl with bushy brown hair. There were books stacked on the table and a roll of parchment lay in front of her.

"Is it? I was just in the fireplace, wasn't I?"

"No, it's been weeks since you last appeared. How did you get in? I've spent hours in the library searching for you, but I've never been able to find you."

"Well, that's because I'm a fireplace man, not a library one."

"I mean in the books, of course. There should have been some mention of you, perhaps as a ghost or something, but nothing! Why is that? Surely someone must have seen you here before?"

"I wouldn't think so..." The Doctor walked back over to the fireplace and began examining the mantle.

"So, how are Harry and Ron doing these days?" He asked conversationally.

"Fine, I guess. They're not exactly speaking to me at the moment."

"Already?"

"Well, we aren't really friends anyways. I mean, they're the closest thing that I have to friends here, aside from you that is. I don't think they really like me."

"Oh, I see, so, Halloween hasn't happened yet-" He banged the mantelpiece with his fist and then leaned back over it. "Oh, look, there must be some sort of loose connection with this, you really should call in a repairman."

Hermione's eyebrows knit together as she tried to process everything the fireplace man was saying. She settled on the last bit. "A repairman, at Hogwarts! Surely, you mean Mr. Filch, right?"

"Yeah, I suppose-" The Doctor looked absently at the clock on the mantelpiece, then froze. "Okay, that's scary… Hermione, don't move! Do you hear something?"

Hermione's eyes wandered around the room, trying to find anything worth worrying about. "No, only the ticking of that clock on that mantelpiece, why?"

"Because it's broken." He started backing away from the clock, eyeing the room too. "So, where is that mysterious ticking noise coming from? Snape, Snape, Severus Snape," He saw the look on Hermione's face and frowned. "Oh, never mind, you wouldn't get that joke anyway. Just stay there and don't move."

As the Doctor crept cautiously past Hermione, she instinctively pulled her legs up and held them to herself. The Doctor edged towards the tapestry, just behind where Hermione was sitting and pulled out his sonic screwdriver from his inside coat pocket.

"Is that a wand?" whispered Hermione, "Only I've never seen one like that before."

"Yeah, it's a metal wand thing, and no, you won't find that in the library either."

The Doctor suddenly pulled back the tapestry and Hermione nearly laughed with relief.

"That's just one of the suits of armor that inhabit the castle. It's really quite harmless."

The Doctor frowned. "Then why is it ticking?"

Hermione frowned too, trying to make sense of the new phenomenon. "Maybe it's Peeves, the castle poltergeist. He might have broken the mantelpiece clock and stuck another one inside the suit of armor to confuse people. He's done stranger things before-"

"No, not Peeves. I highly doubt he'd bother with such details. Besides, whatever is ticking in there is six feet tall by the sound of the resonance. So why are you here?" He whispered this last part as he raised his hand up to the helmet and gently began lifting the visor. The ticking noise became slightly louder. Hermione peered up into the helmet. Inside it was a glass dome filled with all the accoutrements one would find in a clock. The cogs moved in time with the ticks.

The Doctor stared at it in awe. "You're beautiful, no, look at you! I've never seen anything like you before. Hermione, this is a sort of repair man thing, it's really quite harmless-" There was a whirring noise as an armored arm creaked up, a blade extending out of its wrist and pointing at the Doctor's throat.

"Harmless!" squeaked Hermione.

"Well, generally speaking, yes. About as harmless as Grawp now, by the look of things."

The Doctor began backing away from the armor as it advanced on him.

"No, don't!" yelled Hermione desperately at the clockwork man.

The clockwork man, blade still at the ready, stopped and turned its head towards Hermione. All became quite still. The Doctor turned too, giving her a searching look.

"It listened to you. I wonder…order it to answer my questions."

Voice quavering, Hermione tried to sound as authoritative as possible. "Whatever he asks, would you please answer him?"

It had come out something more like pleading than ordering, but the clockwork man turned its head back towards the Doctor expectantly.

"You've never really ordered people around before, have you? Now then," he looked into the cog riddled face before continuing, "why did you do that? What's so special about her - no offense Hermione."

It was a deep mechanical voice that answered, "She will have the parts." The voice conveyed a single-mindedness stronger than any spell Hermione knew.

"Hold on, wait a second- let me look." The Doctor, who had been watching the clockwork man with great interest, had turned back to face Hermione. Before she could as much as blink, the Doctor had grasped her head between his hands, closing his eyes. Hermione barely had time to notice how gentle his hands were. It was almost like the way her father used to hold her head. What really made her jump, though, were the images that instantly flooded her mind. Her childhood with her mother and father, times on the beach, the smell of toothpaste at her parent's dental practice. There was the letter from Hogwarts and then the sorting hat debating whether or not to put her in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. Then the images began focusing on her birthdays. During all the mental chaos, however, Hermione could feel something else just outside her own mind which reached into the eternities. A mind so unimaginably vast like she'd never known could exist. Then it was gone.

"No!" came the Doctor's horrified voice. She felt herself wake up a bit and stared as he began facing down the clockwork man.

"You've been scanning her brain! Why have you been scanning the brain of an eleven year old girl? Oh, don't worry," he added trying to comfort a terror stricken Hermione, "it's not after your brain or anything like that. Looks like it just wanted to know how old you are."

"Then why doesn't it just ask me?" she cried, "I'm twelve!"

The Doctor looked as though she'd cheated him somehow. "Hold on, aren't you still in your first year at Hogwarts? First years are supposed to be eleven not twelve."

"Yes, but my birthday was in September. I've been twelve almost a month now."

"Oh, right, well, that's probably confused its timelines a bit then. Anyway, what's her age got to do with anything?"

"We need the parts."

"Yes, but what parts. Why here, why now? Surely, you can get your precious parts elsewhere?"

"She is not complete."

"What do you mean not complete!"

The clockwork man seemed to decide that the interrogation was over. It advanced on the Doctor, who found himself up against the mantelpiece he'd arrived through. It raised the blade high into the air and then sent it arching back down towards the doctor, who dodged. Hermione gasped, clutching her hands across her mouth.

"Fireplace man!"

The blade, having missed the doctor had instead lodged itself into the clock on the mantel.

"This is just a nightmare, Hermione, don't worry about it. You were up too late studying knargles or whatnot and fell asleep. Everyone has nightmares. Even monsters have nightmares, don't you, monster?"

"What do monsters fear?" she asked.

"Me, ha!" He hit the mantel which spun around carrying himself and the clockwork man, leaving the world of Hermione and entering that of their own. The world where the Doctor's companions had been waiting for his return. Mickey gasped in surprise as the Doctor leapt towards what appeared to be a massive gun and grabbed it. Before the clockwork man could pull the blade from the clock , the doctor aimed the massive gun and pulled the trigger. A white cloud was propelled from the barrel, freezing the clockwork man on contact.

"Is that a freeze ray gun? I'd love a freeze ray gun!" Mickey exclaimed.

"Fifty-first century fire extinguisher. Here, you can have it"

"Whoa, thanks!"

The Doctor looked the frozen clockwork man over. The armor crackled and began chipping. "Shame about the armor, really. It was -"

Before the Doctor could finish, there was another creaking sound as one armored hands reached for its wrist, pressing a button. The clockwork man vanished.

"No, no, no!" He ran his hands through his hair. "There must be more of them somewhere on this ship, or… or back with Hermione! I've got to warn her! Be back as soon as I can! And no wandering off, you hear me!"

Rose shrugged her shoulders noncommittally as Mickey nodded, "Sure thing, boss."

The Doctor reached for the corner of the mantel and shot them one last meaningful look. "Don't go looking for it! That thing's dangerous!"

The fireplace began to spin once more. The Doctor, who was expecting another night time conference, had to blink in the sunlight coming in from one of the windows. There was a collective gasp as a small group of first years stared at him. Luckily, nobody else seemed to be in the common room.

"Oh, sorry, didn't think anyone would be here."

The smallest of the students, a young girl who was holding a thin leather book, stood up. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"Just popping through- wait-" he looked at the girl more closely, "red hair, freckles and hand-me down robes -hello, you must be Ginny Weasley! Nice to meet you, I'm the Doctor. Must have gotten lost somewhere behind a tapestry. Best be off! By the way," the Doctor pulled the edge of the mantelpiece, which began to revolve back towards his non-magical world, "I'd start thinking about chucking that old diary, if I were you."

What little he could see of Ginny's face was slowly turning bright red.

Once back, the Doctor turned to Rose. "Better not try that one again. Okay, so let's see if Hermione's looking into the fire yet."

"What do you mean?" Asked Rose. The Doctor failed to notice she was panting.

"Well, if Ginny Weasley is at Hogwarts and carrying a diary around, then we must be well into the second book _The Chamber of Secrets_."

"So?" panted Mickey.

"'So!' You have read the books, haven't you?" The doctor raised an eyebrow and gave Mickey a look of disgust. "I can just see you now, watching the movies as great, big dust piles heap up on the books. So, _The Chamber of Secrets_, that means that Hermione is - well was, or is going to be- petrified by the basilisk."

The Doctor paused for a moment, staring back at the two of them, both of whom he now noticed were covered in sweat. "I thought I told you not to go wandering off!"

Rose wiped the sweat from her face. "Couldn't help it."

"What happened? You look like you've been tossed into the lake and banged around by the giant squid."

Rose shot the Doctor a dirty look as Mickey responded. "I may not have read the books, but I certainly know about the three-headed dog. Came out of some drapes and had a go at us. Sprayed him with the fire extinguisher and we ran for it."

The Doctor glanced at the now barricaded door as three distinctly different growls harmonized on the other side.

"My, we have some cowboys in here! Must have been another doorway. I always did wonder what happened to Fluffy. Anyways," he continued, "the time runs differently between our worlds, thanks to the faulty wiring in the mantelpiece. We know that these clockwork people are trying to get some sort of part, presumably something powerful, that they believe only Hermione can provide them. The best way to discover if they've found what they're looking for is to stay in contact with their target. Needless to say, they can't do anything while she's a big petrified hunk of stone. So, let's look and see if she's gotten out of the hospital wing yet."

The three of them knelt down beside the hearth, trying to see the world beyond the flames. "Hermione? Hermione, are you there?"

They could hear a chair moving on the other side and after a moment Hermione sat down and sniffed. It was obvious to them that she'd been crying.

"Hello." she mumbled.

"Hermione, what's wrong, what's happened?" The Doctor asked, leaning in closer to the hearth.

"Oh, nothing. It's just that, well, I applied for my classes next term, but I don't think I'll be able to do them."

"You applied for every subject, didn't you." The Doctor replied knowingly.

"Y-yes, I know that I could do it, but when P-professor M-mcGon-gonagall sent my request for a time turner to the Ministry of M-magic, it-it was denied."

"What! No, they can't do that! Can't you just send in another application?"

"They said that they're decision was f-final."

"Why would they do that?"

"I don't know, I've done everything right and I'm the best in my year! Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore sent in really wonderful letters of recommendation. It's just that…" Tears were welling up again in her eyes.

"Yes…" The Doctor prompted.

"I suppose… it's just that, ever since the - the night with the suit of armor, I've always b-been n-nervous around them, the armor. I c-can't help it! So m-Madame Pomfrey wrote that I might n-not be able to c-cope w-with the stress of t-time t-tr-travel. And so the m-m-ministry said no!"

The Doctor stared blankly into the fire as comprehension dawned on him.

"I did this." he whispered. His head suddenly jerked back towards Hermione whose tear-stained eyes were on him. It was as though she thought he could do something about this. Well, he could.

"Listen, Hermione, you _can't_ not do this. It's vital that you do this. I can help you, but you'll have to meet me somewhere. How about in the alleyway between Diagon and Knockturn. Can you do that?"

"When?"

"Just before the start of term. I'll be waiting there."

She sniffed. "It's not anything illegal is it?"

"'Course not! Just different, but similar to a time turner, yes. You do want to do this, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Then trust me."

"Thank you." she whispered.

"What's going on?" called Mickey. The Doctor stood up and stared contemplatively at the clock on the mantel then sighed and turned to Rose expectantly.

"Rose," he asked, "how many books are there in the Harry Potter series?"

Her response was immediate. "Three, why?"

"Are you sure there aren't seven."

Rose winced, as if trying to remember something. "Yeah, I think so, that's weird, isn't it. A moment ago, I could've sworn there were more."

"That's why I have to go. If I don't, there won't even be a fourth book to read. This is my fault. Just my being there has messed with a clearly established time frame. Now I have to fix it."

"You said you've got something like a time turner," Rose said suspiciously, "but you're not seriously thinking of taking the TARDIS into the Harry Potter world, are you?"

"Yeah, what are you going to do, shove it through the fireplace?" Mickey laughed.

The Doctor grinned as he entered the TARDIS. "Trust me, I'm the Doctor!"

The TARDIS door closed and began whirring and phasing out of the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Time Turning Part II**

It was the end of August and Diagon Alley was packed with witches, wizards and students buying last minute supplies for Hogwarts. Unlike previous years, Hermione could see people traveling in tight knit groups, whispering quietly amongst themselves. Looming over the many witches and wizards were flyers with a single man watching them from his photograph: Sirius Black. Hermione shivered as she, Ron and Harry passed under a cluster of them.

Hermione tried not to look at the wanted posters, but they were everywhere, some had even been knocked down to the cobbled street. She had of course read about Black long before his escape had hit the frontlines of the Daily Prophet. He was in _Modern Magical History_, having killed 13 people in broad daylight with a single curse. As far as she was concerned he was a madman, but a madman on the run who still eluded wizarding authorities could not be thought of too lightly. Nor could other possibilities be taken so lightly either. There was still the Fireplace man and his offer. Hermione had spent all summer, while she was in France, continually turning his proposition over in her mind. It seemed too good to be true. "Similar to a time turner, yes" he had said to her at the end of last term. But what could that possibly be, and why was she to meet him in Knockturn alley? Knockturn alley was the darker end of magical merchandising, so why would someone helping her want to meet her there? Could he be a dark wizard too, like Sirius Black?

No, she had told herself over and over again all summer. When the news of Black's escape had first come out, Hermione had panicked. Just in case there was any other way, she'd sent an owl to Professor McGonagall, pleading for another Time Turner application. The professor's response had come back with a school owl. In it, Professor McGonagall had written that she was sorry, but the Ministry's decision was final. There was also a small list suggesting which classes Hermione could do without. That left Hermione with only two choices: either she trust her Fireplace man or drop several of her classes.

"Hey Hermione, can I buy you an ice cream?" Harry asked apparently unaffected by the Black posters. He and Ron had begun making their way towards Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlor as Hermione lagged behind them, thinking.

She hesitated. "No, but thanks Harry. I'm just off to buy a few more things. I'll meet you two at the Leaky Cauldron, okay? After that, I was thinking of buying a pet, maybe an owl like Hedwig for post or something."

Harry peered through his round glasses at her pale face. "Hermione, are you sure you're alright?"

"You've been fidgeting all day, more than usual." added Ron unhelpfully.

"Oh, yes," she squeaked, "I'm fine. You go on right ahead, alright?"

Harry and Ron both shrugged as they watched Hermione dash off; she could've sworn she heard Ron mutter to Harry, "Mental, I'm telling you."

As she made her way past a gaggle of witches, Hermione winced, imagining what Professor McGonagall would have to say about her plans. 'You foolish girl!' came the professor's unbidden voice, booming in her mind, 'what were you thinking, meeting a complete stranger, and in Knockturn Alley of all places! And with Sirius Black on the loose, too! He could be a dark wizard helping Black! I thought you knew better! Fifty points from Gryffindor for your stupidity!'

But Hermione knew she'd never be able to explain it. How could she explain how he'd appeared in the fireplace. How he'd helped save her from the clockwork man. How, when he'd momentarily touched her mind, it was as though her mind had been touched by whole galaxies. Would a dark wizard aiding Sirius Black be like her Fireplace man? She reasoned quietly to herself.

Down deep inside of her, Hermione desperately wanted to trust him. But could she afford to, she wondered. Even if she could, what about the clockwork man, would it come back whenever he did?

She was now within feet of the dark entryway down into Knockturn alley. The air coming from it felt cold and damp, even on such a hot August day. Hermione shivered, but then the thought of having to let go of any one of her classes made her stand straighter and walk, chin high, wand up her sleeve and ready, into the darkness of Knockturn alley.

The way was dimly lit by a few oil lamps. The lamps' dull flicker revealed the strangest sight Hermione had ever seen in a magical setting. There, off to one side of the cobbled street, was a large blue box with the words "Police Public Call Box" illuminated. Before Hermione could fully comprehend what she was seeing, one of the blue wooden doors creaked open. She immediately raised her wand to the ready and, trying to sound much braver than she felt said,

"Whoever you are, I-I've got a wand. I'm not afraid to use it."

There was a moment's pause, then a familiar voice answered back "Put your wand down, Hermione, it's only me. Come in and have a look."

Hermione, wand still upheld, nervously edged her way over to the blue box and peered inside. She made a small gasp. "That's a lovely engorgement charm you've put on the place!" The Fireplace man, who was standing in the middle of the massive room, looked over his shoulder and ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. "Yes, I suppose you'd see it that way. Anyway, Hermione Granger, this is the TARDIS."

She wrinkled her nose, her wand lowering in spite of herself. "The what?"

"That's short for **T**ime **A**nd **R**elative **D**imensions **I**n **S**pace, kind of like how SPEW really means the **S**ociety for the **P**rotection of- oh, never mind, you're still too young for that. The point is, this is how you're going to get everywhere you need to go this year at Hogwarts. It beats a Time Turner any ol' day."

Hermione entered the circular room. It was the size of Gryffindor tower. All along the walls were brown textured arches which faced a tall glass column encircled by a large control panel. Hermione came towards the control panel and allowed her fingers to caress it. Her initial fears began to fade into skepticism. "But it looks like a muggle contraption. Muggle machines don't work around Hogwarts, there's too much magic there."

"I've already been there to check, spent the last two months vacationing in the forbidden forest. Yes, it will work."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "But how did you even get it there? You can't apparate or disapparate on school grounds."

The Fireplace man grinned boyishly, "Yeah, I know, lucky the TARDIS can do it, really. So, are we still on?"

"You're coming too?"

"Of course I'm coming. Who do you expect to drive this thing, a house elf?"

Hermione was still not totally convinced the device would work. But it was worth a try, he'd never led her wrong before. "Alright, so I'll meet you at Hogwarts."

"In the broom cupboard near Professor Binns's classroom."

"And, you will be there, right?" she tested him, watching for any signs of doubt to cross his face. Her Fireplace man, however, nodded confidently.

Seeing him now, talking with him, Hermione felt sure that her Fireplace man could not possibly be a dark wizard. But even if he wasn't a dark wizard, there could be something else coming, something she wouldn't want to meet again.

"What about the clockwork man, is it coming back? The last time you arrived, it said it was waiting for the 'parts' and me to… me to be old enough to have the parts. Fireplace man, what was that? Will it come back again? Is that why you're really here?"

The Fireplace man watched her for a moment, then turned back to the control consol before saying "Term starts Monday, September 2nd, right?"

In Hermione's opinion, that meant 'yes.' She sighed, sure that she wasn't going to get any clear answers from him yet. She would have the whole year to find out, though. "Yes, thank you Fireplace man."

"No problem, now go and enjoy the rest of your day with Harry and Ron - oh, and good luck finding a pet! You can never go wrong with cats, especially a clever one!" Hermione was a little unnerved by this last declaration, but let the matter rest. Perhaps, if he really could travel into the future, he already knew a lot more than he was telling.

She closed the TARDIS door behind her and began to walk away when she heard it swing open again as the Fireplace man called out, "People call me the Doctor."

She frowned. "Doctor who?"

"No, just the Doctor. See you in September."

Hermione had walked no more the two paces when a strange whirring sound filled her ears. She swung around, wand raised and stared. There was nothing. The blue box was gone.

September came and with it the dementors. The dementors had been sent by the Wizard prison Azkaban to guard the school from Sirius Black, who was still at large. On the train heading to Hogwarts, Harry had told both Hermione and Ron that this was not, in fact, the whole truth. They were there to protect the school, but they were there mainly to protect one student in particular, Harry himself.

They weren't alone when Harry had confided this. In their compartment, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor R. J. Lupin, slept peacefully throughout the discussion. He'd only awakened when the train had stopped, allowing the dementors to enter the cars, searching for Black. While feeling for Black the dementors preyed upon everyone's happiness, feeding on their memories. Then, Professor Lupin cast a luminous spell, dispersing the robbed creatures.

Everyone was shaking, some were even pale and sweating, after having lived out their worst memories. Harry however, who was filled with the horrifying memory of his parent's murder, had fainted.

Once the train had arrived at the Hogsmeade platform, both Harry and Hermione were summoned by Professor McGonagall, who had been told of Harry's fainting spell on the train. On Professor McGonagall's orders, Hermione had had to escort a defensive Harry, to the professor's office, to be examined by Madame Pomfrey, the school's resident healer. After a quick examination, Harry, still incensed that Madame Pomfrey would called him delicate, was dismissed, leaving Hermione alone with Professor McGonagall.

"Miss Granger, have you decided what classes you wish to take this term?" McGonagall asked.

"Erm," Hermione desperately tried to think of an excuse. Grudgingly, she asked herself 'what would Ronald Weasley do?' Immediately, an idea came to her. "Would I be able to - to tell you tomorrow about my classes? Only I'm still recovering from the dementors, professor. They really were quite terrifying!"

Professor McGonagall eyed her suspiciously before saying, much to Hermione's relief, "Very well. You may go Miss Granger, but I shall be having your decision tomorrow, no later than breakfast."

"Thank you, professor."

As Hermione exited the small office, she distinctly heard Professor McGonagall say "Dementors at Hogwarts! We'll be lucky if they don't turn out to be more trouble than Black!"

Making her way down to where Harry was waiting, Hermione warily eyed every suit of armor, hoping that dementors might be her only problem this year.

At breakfast the next morning, Professor McGonagall began handing out the term's schedules to each student. She stopped when she came to Hermione.

"Well Miss Granger, now that you are feeling better, have you decided?"

"Umm, I was wondering professor, if I might not be able to attend all of the classes, just once, get a feel for them. Please! I want to make a proper decision." Professor McGonagall was silent, eyeing Hermione.

"Please!"

"Alright Miss Granger! Be it upon your own head! You can attend all of your classes this week only, then you will report back to me. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes! Thank you Professor McGonagall!"

"Good luck. Goodness knows you'll need it!"

With a wave of her wand, Professor McGonagall produced Hermione's schedule, which floated down to meet her waiting hands. Hermione was so elated that she yelled another thank you at the professor, who was now stalking off towards the head table.

The plan was simple. The plan, if the Doctor was telling the truth, should easily work. The plan, in Hermione's opinion, should not have involved so many flights of stairs.

Hermione had decided to attend, as her first nine o'clock class of that morning, Divinations, which she shared with Ron and Harry. Divination was in the North Tower of the castle. After the class, which was very badly run in her opinion, Hermione desperately raced down the stairs until she'd reached the broom cupboard next to Professor Binns's classroom.

She clutched the stitch at her side and, panting and overloaded with schoolbooks, she opened the cupboard door. There, much to her satisfaction, was the Doctor's Police Public Call Box ready and waiting for her. She knocked and entered.

It looked just the same as it had before with its arches and the strange control panel at the center. The Doctor, wearing the same suit he'd been wearing the entire time she'd known him, was ready and waiting at the controls.

He smiled. "Welcome aboard, Hermione! Where to first?"

She placed her book bag on floor and walked over to the Doctor, still catching her breath. "You're here, even with the dementors guarding every entrance, you made it. How? Do you know if Sirius Black get in the same way too?"

The Doctor's smile remained, but it had gotten smaller. "He can't. Not in the same way, no. Ready?"

"You're sure now?" she asked.

His smile widened again. "Positive."

"Alright." Hermione turned her attentions to the consol switches, sizing them up. "So how is this supposed to work?"

The Doctor was grinning uncontrollably now.

"Easy, I press a knob here, flick a switch there and then -" there was a whirring sound and the whole room became unsteady. Hermione nearly fell over, but gripped the control panel firmly. She was too busy trying not to topple over to notice that the glass tubes in the column were shifting up and down in time with the whirring.

"Presto!" exclaimed the Doctor. "There you have it Hermione. You're now ready to start your school day all over again. Which class is it this time?"

"Arithmancy." Hermione panted. After catching her breath, she walked over to the door and hesitated, her hand still on the small handle.

"Will it really be 9 o'clock again?" she asked dubiously.

The doctor smiled knowingly. "Why don't you look outside."

Hermione pulled open the door and peered outside and gasped. They were definitely not in the broom cupboard outside Professor Binns's classroom anymore. It was Moaning Myrtle's bathroom this time. And, speaking of time…

Hermione peered down at her watch. The minute and hour hands were spinning counter clockwise until they hit 8:45. She turned back to the open door of the TARDIS.

"That was amazing!"

Inside, she could see the Doctor who was still standing next to the control panel, smile. "Brilliant, isn't it? 'Course, ending up in a girl's lavatory is a bit anticlimactic if you ask me."

"Now then," he continued, "some important ground rules. Whatever you do, don't meet yourself, things could get a little hairy if you did."

Hermione thought about this for a moment. "You would probably think you were an imposter, using the Polyjuice Potion, right?"

"Well, for you I suppose so, yeah. No, mostly it mostly has to do with meeting your younger self on one of his bad days. There's a bit of a tendency for him to insult you. Doesn't exactly build up the ego." Hermione cocked her head to one side, staring confusedly at him, so he added, "But I don't think you'll need to worry about that part. Just make sure not that you don't see yourself. The second thing is don't let anyone else see you where you shouldn't be, especially if they were just talking to you moments before. That could also get a bit hairy. The third, and most important thing of all is that I'll always be around, somehow, somewhere. If you need to find me, all you have to do is look."

Hermione nodded. "Thank you Doctor! I'll meet you here in an hour or so!"

There was a shrill girl's voice from a nearby stall. "I hear voices! Meet who in an hour? Who's there? Was that a BOY speaking?!"

"It's nothing Myrtle." Hermione lied, darting out of the bathroom before Myrtle could pop out of the S-bend.

Over the next few days, Hermione realized that time wasn't the only thing to worry about with her classes. Geography was a problem. The Doctor didn't seem to be able to control where his machine would turn up next. First it would land in the library, then it would end up in the dungeons and after that who knew where the TARDIS doors would open to. Inevitably nine classes out of ten, Hermione found herself gasping for breath and clutching a stitch at her side having just run down seven flights of stairs to get from point A to point B.

Once, during the first week, they had landed themselves in Snape's private store cupboard. Before Hermione could jump back into the TARDIS and transport out, Snape had opened the door. He sneered down at her.

"Well, if it isn't Miss Granger. What, pray tell, are you doing here? Surely you and your little friends are not thinking of 'borrowing' anything."

"I - I was" Hermione stammered, but before she could continue, Snape's eyes had wandered from her face to the blue box behind her. He gaped.

"What the -" Snape began, then the TARDIS whirred in and out, leaving the store room feeling quite empty.

"What was that Miss Granger!" Snape snapped.

Hermione wracked her mind for a useful Ron-ism, settling for the dumbest one she could find. "What was what?"

"That thing - what was a muggle police phone box doing inside my store cupboard!" He snarled, stomping the stone floor as though he were expecting to find a trapdoor.

"I have no idea what you are talking about. Sorry Professor, but I'd better be going, can't be late for Muggle Studies, we're learning about telephones today!"

She ran before Snape, who was still busy examining every inch of the cupboard, could give her detention for the entire month.

When Hermione next entered the TARDIS she told the Doctor what happened and was surprised when he simply laughed.

"Doctor, this is serious!" Hermione squeaked desperately, "I think Snape suspects something! I saw him talking to Dumbledore at dinner last night, Snape was pointing right at me!"

The Doctor smiled, shaking his head, as he continued flipping through the volume on dragon breeding she'd brought him that day. He reached the end and snapped the book shut. "Well Hermione, that might just be the thing. Dumbledore doesn't have to know everything, but maybe a hint or two like that will put things in the proper order."

"What do you mean 'in the proper order?'" She asked suspiciously.

"Oh, you'll see Hermione, you'll see. When this is all over, you'll know exactly why I'm here. Could you get me a few more books on dragons, I've already finished this one."

"But I just handed it to you!"

"Yeah, well, I'm a very fast reader." Hermione took the Dragon Breeding book and stomped out of the TARDIS, pressing her lips together like Professor McGonagall.

Fall quickly faded into winter, but as the months progressed, the Doctor seemed rather contented, so long as she brought him books from the library or some extra food from the great hall. What he'd do with these, however, puzzled Hermione. The food often remained untouched as he scoured page after page of the books. It wasn't that ignoring food in the pursuit of knowledge was abnormal to her, but the food never seemed to get more than an few hours older. By the end of her first week, she'd decided that he must be skipping the evening hours of each day. After all, she'd only seen him change his suit once.

No, it was the way he read books that truly bothered her. She had had no idea, after asking her to borrow about twenty books from the library, that when he said he was a fast reader, he'd meant skimmer. It pained her the first time she watched him flip through each of the books in quick succession, looking for all the world like Ron cramming for end of year exams. It wouldn't have been half so bad if, afterwards, he'd accrued a similar amount of knowledge. Instead, the Doctor asked her all sorts of questions, having gleaned every last detail from the skimmed books.

"How is it," he'd asked one afternoon while transporting her to Charms lessons, "that magical pictures move?"

"They are placed in a Developing Solution and then hung to dry." said Hermione, hoping that she'd explained things simply enough.

"That's what Imogene Iconn said in her book _The Fantastic Art of Moving Pictures: A Photographical Guide to the Magical World_. But what I want to know is how can the images portray what their real world counterparts would do, if stuck in the permanent scene? They move, they smile at people and they retain a basic form of personality, how?"

She tried again. "It's the way that the ingredients are mixed together that creates the effect of movement."

"But how? Why? It doesn't take a picture of their heart and soul, too, does it?"

She gave up. "I don't know! That's just how the potion works."

"Hrmph!"

Of course, her questionings about the TARDIS seemed to go much the same way.

"What's that?" she'd asked after reliving nine o'clock for the third time in a row one day.

"It's a tribophysical waveform macro kinetic extrapolator."

"A what?"

"It's a tribophysical - oh, never mind. It's a sort of transport device. It shifts things a bit, when the TARDIS needs to suddenly change location."

"Is that like how, when wizards are apparating, they have to contemplate the three D's: destination, determination, deliberation. It's some kind of Deliberation device, right?"

"Yeah, it's exactly like that, except it's not really like that at all! It's spacey-wacey!"

"That's how it really works, though, isn't it? Seems rather silly to hit it with a hammer if you ask me."

"It's percussive maintenance!" exclaimed the Doctor, putting away the hammer after giving the extrapolator one or two more good thwacks.

Professor McGonagall, when it became obvious that Hermione was present at every class, seemed to have given up on asking Hermione to change her schedule. This bothered Hermione, having expected more of a fight from the headmistress, but she didn't have much time to wonder about it. The term was well under way now and her homework was stacking up higher and higher. After the end of Christmas break, Hermione spent most of her extra hours in the TARDIS getting the last lines of an essay or assignment polished up.

On one such evening, after concluding her essay 'The Television Remote: Modern Convenience or Muggle Wand?', she rolled up her parchment and bid the Doctor goodnight.

"Oh, Hermione, when you go to the library, bring me every book you can that even so much as mentions the words Time Turner."

"Why Time Turners?"

"Oh, no particular reason," he explained, "just curious."

Hermione frowned. "You never usually ask for things so specifically."

"Except for dragons." The Doctor argued. "I clearly remember asking you to borrow books on dragons."

She waved her hand. "Dragons aside."

He shrugged. "Curiosity does strange things to people like me. Just remember the books!"

Hermione opened the door and was immediately met by the most horrible screeching noise imaginable.

"Crookshanks!" she cried, "What are you doing here?"

A flat-faced orange puffball whizzed past her, hissing and screeching as he went. Everything about the TARDIS seemed to be mortally offensive to the cat. Hermione grabbed him. "I'm so sorry Doctor. Crookshanks isn't usually like this!"

She tore her eyes from Crookshanks and looked up at the Doctor, who was eyeing the cat uncomfortably. "Doctor, are you alright? You aren't allergic to cats, are you?"

"Had a bad run in with a cat in a cowl. Haven't gotten over the experience yet. I suppose I'll have to now, though." He listened to the senseless screeches for a minute.

"Oh, I see!" He looked at Crookshanks with awe. "Clever cat you've got there Hermione. Brilliant in fact!"

"Ron doesn't think so." Hermione muttered bitterly, struggling to keep hold of her cat, "He says Crookshanks is a monster because he chases Scabbers, Ron's pet rat."

"Nonsense! Though, I would say that if Scabbers is smart, he'll take a miny rat-vacation of his own. He'd only be gone for a few weeks, but he'll come back to bite in the end. Let's see if Crookshanks will let me hold him now."

He reached over to Hermione and began to pick up the wriggling creature.

"Come here Crookshanks. That's it now. There! See, I'm not a bad person, am I Hermione?"

Hermione stared. The Doctor started gesturing for her to respond.

"Oh, no Crookshanks, he isn't a bad person at all! He's really nice and he's been taking me to all of my lessons, and - and he saved me a few years back."

Crookshanks began to calm down at this and was eagerly sniffing, first at the Doctor's wrists, then his chest. The cat then put his paws on each side of the Doctor's tie, as though feeling for a heartbeat. It meowed.

"You're right. I'm not human and I'm certainly not from around here. Let's hand you back to Hermione now."

Hermione took the now sedate cat into her grasp, staring at the Doctor.

"He was just trying to protect you from me, but I think we've convinced him. At least, we've convinced him not to try and attack the TARDIS again."

Hermione's mind burned with curiosity. "What are you, if you aren't human?"

"Not from around these parts. Nothing that you could find in that library of yours." Hermione reluctantly dropped the issue, saying goodbye before she and the cat left for the Gryffindor common room.

The next day Hermione came in with a large stack of books. The Doctor appeared to be quite impressed.

"All of that on Time Turners?" he asked.

"No," she breathed, "only the top two: _The Timely Hour _by Tempus Fugit and Dickory Dock's _So You Think You Can Understand Time_. The rest are all about hippogriff trials."

"Buckbeak?" Hermione, who had become accustomed to the Doctor's overabundant foreknowledge, merely nodded.

"I promised Hagrid that I'd try to find a case where the hippogriff got off. Hopefully I'll be able to build a strong defense for him."

"Good luck with that one, Hermione. Could you pass me those Time Turner books now? Thanks!"

It was nearing the end of her third year at Hogwarts and Hermione was starting to lose her mind. Almost every day now, she found herself in the TARDIS with books piled around her, blocking everything else from view. There were Arithmancy books piled on the ones for Muggle Studies, all of which propped up books about hippogriff trials. Those was proving to be her most fruitless study (except for Divination, which had proven to be so unreasonable that by Easter holiday she'd abandoned the subject completely).

The Doctor, who had taken mercy on her, helped Hermione search through every hippogriff trial known to wizard kind. He had found only one scenario in which the hippogriff eluded justice.

"Don't get your hopes up, though." warned the Doctor, when Hermione looked up from her fifth essay for the night, face spattered with ink, "Rubbish really! Looks like the executioner wouldn't go near the creature. Scared the willies out of him!"

Her third year finals were the most difficult exams Hermione had yet faced. After each one, wringing her hands and moaning, she always told the Doctor how it had gone.

"Oh no!" Hermione groaned after her Ancient Ruins final. "I think I mistranslated something. Oh, I'm sure I did!"

"Can't have." the Doctor said automatically, "The TARDIS matrix translates for you. You could be taking a test in Vietnamese without noticing a single word different from English."

Hermione gasped. "But that's cheating! Doctor, are you saying I had an unfair advantage on my Ancient Ruins examination?"

The Doctor winced showily. "Cheating is such a harsh word. I prefer to think of it as creative problem solving. If it's any consolation though, I don't think it's likely to have made much of a difference in your case. Anyway, when will Buckbeak's hearing be?"

"Oh," Hermione muttered, still disappointed about her exam, "tomorrow, during my last exam, the one for Defense Against The Dark Arts."

"That isn't going to be your last exam, Hermione." the Doctor whispered, almost to himself.

She blinked. "What do you mean? I don't have any other classes left to take exams for."

"Oh yes you do," the Doctor said, casually glancing at his screen, "you still have mine."

"What!" cried Hermione, "Your exam? When? But I haven't even studied for one!"

The Doctor did one of his theatric winces again. "Well, it's more like a pop quiz really. You'll know it when you see it, Hermione. That's all I can tell you now."

Hermione fretted about the quiz all through her Defense Against The Dark Arts final, which was a practical. She was so nervous that when the bogart (a magical creature that turns into one's worst fear) transformed into Professor McGonagall, shouting that Hermione had failed all her classes, it was too much. Hermione burst into tears and ran to Gryffindor tower.

Once there, she sat down at the table she'd been sitting at two years earlier when both the Doctor and the clockwork man had first appeared. She wiped the tears from her eyes, wondering. Would the test have anything to do with the clockwork man? If it was, how would she fight it? Could they be repelled by magic, or would something more than a wand be needed?

Hermione's mind was riffling through all the different defensive spells she knew when Hedwig landed on her lap, holding a letter in her golden beak. Hermione reluctantly took the small roll of parchment, her fingers trembling. It was addressed in Hagrid's handwriting. It must be the results of the appeal, she thought.

Inside, the news wasn't good. She waited in the common room for Ron and Harry, both of whom were taking their Divinations exam. Ron was the first to arrive, then Harry who looked pale and confused. Harry's face became set however, when he finished reading Hagrid's note.

Five minutes later, Hermione found the TARDIS at the back of the library's flying books section. She dodged a particularly ferocious tome called_ Of Bludgers and Beaters_, and knocked on the TARDIS door before entering. The Doctor was seated on a chair, which she suspected he'd torn from the backseat of a car, reading. It was the book _So You Think You Can Understand Time_, which he had read and reread, refusing to give it her back.

"Doctor," she sighed, "I'm sorry, but you'll have to postpone that exam of yours, something's come up. Buckbeak is going to be executed at sundown, so Ron, Harry and I want to be there for him, to comfort him, so he won't be alone."

The Doctor nodded gravely, still reading. "Yes, I think that would be for the best."

"Thank you." she turned to leave.

"Oh, but Hermione," He looked up from his book, "the test is not postponed. You'll understand later. Now, whatever you happens tonight, if at any point Dumbledore asks you to do something, do it. Don't argue with him. Do you understand?"

She nodded confusedly.

"This is very important. Good luck Hermione." The Doctor glanced back down at his book before adding. "The TARDIS will be parked in the Hospital wing supply cupboard, third one to your right."

With Hagrid's note firmly clutched in her hand, Hermione left the TARDIS, heading back towards Gryffindor tower, where Ron and Harry were anxiously waiting for her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Time Turning Part III**

"Shocking business… shocking… miracle none of them died… never heard the like… by thunder, it was lucky you were there, Snape…."

"Thank you, minister."

"Nasty cut you've got there… Black's work, I suppose?"

"As a matter of fact, it was Potter, Weasley, and Granger, Minister…."

"No!" exclaimed the first voice. "The boy has undoubtedly been foolish…."

Harry lay listening with his eyes tight shut. He felt very groggy, so it was difficult to understand…. He wanted to lie here, on this comfortable bed, forever….

"What amazes me most is the behavior of the Dementors… you've really no idea what made them retreat, Snape?"

"No, Minister… by the time I had come 'round they were heading back to their positions at the entrances…."

"Extraordinary. And yet Black, and Harry, and the girl -"

"All unconscious by the time I reached them. I bound and gagged Black, naturally, conjured stretchers, and brought them all straight back to the castle."

There was a pause. Harry's brain seemed to be moving a little faster, and as it did …

He opened his eyes.

He was lying in the dark hospital wing. At the very end of the ward, he could see Madam Pomfrey leaning over the bed where Ron lay, unconscious. In the bed to his right lay Hermione. Moonlight was falling across her bed. Her eyes were opened too. She looked petrified, and when she saw that Harry was awake, pressed a finger to her lips, then pointed to the hospital wing door. It was ajar, and the voices of Cornelius Fudge and Snape were coming through it from the corridor outside.

"Ah, you're awake!" Madam Pomfrey said briskly, when she'd left Ron's side.

"How's Ron?" said Harry and Hermione together.

"He'll live," said Madam Pomfrey grimly. "As for you two… you'll be staying here until I'm satisfied you're - Potter, what do you thing you're doing?"

Harry was now sitting, picking up his wand.

"I need to see the headmaster," he said.

"Potter," said Madam Pomfrey soothingly, "it's alright. They've got Black. He's locked away upstairs. The dementors will b performing the kiss any moment now -"

"WHAT?"

Harry jumped up out of bed; Hermione had done the same. But his shout had been heard in the corridor outside; next second, Cornelius Fudge and Snape were followed by Dumbledore into the ward.

"Harry, Harry, what's this?" said Fudge, looking agitated. "You should be in bed - has he had any chocolate?" he asked Madam Pomfrey anxiously.

"Minister, listen!" Harry said. "Sirius Black's innocent! Peter Pettigrew faked his own death! We saw him tonight! You can't let the dementors do that thing to Sirius, he's -"

But Fudge was shaking his head with a small smile on his face.

"Harry, Harry, you're very confused, you've been through a dreadful ordeal, lie back down, now, we've got everything under control…."

"YOU HAVEN'T!" Harry yelled. "YOU'VE GOT THE WRONG MAN!"

"Minister, listen, please," Hermione said; she had hurried to Harry's side and was gazing imploringly into Fudge's face. "I saw him too. It was Ron's rat, he's an Animagus, Pettigrew, I mean, and -"

"You see, Minister?" said Snape. "Confunded, both of them…. Black's done a very good job on them…."

"I would like to speak to Harry and Hermione alone," said Dumbledore abruptly. "Cornelius, Severus, Poppy - please leave us."

"Headmaster!" sputtered Madam Pomfrey. "They need treatment, they need rest-"

"This cannot wait," said Dumbledore. "I must insist."

Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips and strode away into her office at the end of the ward, slamming the door behind her. Fudge consulted his large gold pocket watch, then crossed to the door and held it open for Snape.

"The dementors should have arrived by now," he said. "I'll go and meet them. Dumbledore, I'll meet you upstairs."

Reluctantly, Snape followed Fudge to the door. When the door was shut firmly behind them, Dumbledore turned to Harry and Hermione. They both burst into speech at the same time, but Dumbledore held up his hand to stem the flood of explanation.

"It is your turn to listen, and I beg you will not interrupt me, because there is very little time." he said quietly. "There is not a shred of proof to support Black's story, except your word - and the word of two thirteen-year-old wizards will not convince anybody. As for Professor Lupin, by the time he has transformed back from a werewolf to a human again, Sirius will be worse than dead. And Sirius has not acted like an innocent man."

"But -"

"_Listen to me, Harry_. It is too late, you understand me? You must see that Professor Snape's version of events is far more convincing that yours."

"But he hates Sirius," said Hermione desperately.

"Do you believe us?" Harry asked.

"Yes, I do," said Dumbledore quietly. "But I have no power to make other men see the truth, or to overrule the Minister of Magic…."

Harry stared up into the grave face and felt as though the ground beneath him were falling sharply away. He had expected Dumbledore to pull some amazing solution out of thin air. But no… their last hope was gone.

"What we need," said Dumbledore slowly, and his light blue eyes moved from Harry to Hermione, "is more _time_."

"But -" Hermione began. And then her eyes became very round. "OH!"

"Now, pay attention," said Dumbledore, speaking very low, and very clearly. "Sirius is locked in Professor Flitwick's office on the seventh floor. Thirteenth window from the right of the West Tower. If all goes well, you will be able to save more than one innocent life tonight. Miss Granger, I must assume you know what would happen if you were caught."

"Yes, Professor, but how did you -"

"And remember, you mustn't be seen. Three hours ought to do it." And with that, Dumbledore left the Harry and Hermione alone in the Hospital wing.

"What did he mean, three hours? Hermione, what are you doing!" Hermione's hand went to her hair and a look of dawning comprehension was lighting her face.

"Oh! That's what he meant…"

"What who meant?"

"The Doctor. Come on Harry!'

"Come where!" Hermione was practically dragging Harry as she raced over to the Hospital wing's broom cupboard.

"Hermione, what are you doing, we have to save Sirius! Get off me!" Before Hermione could open the cupboard door a strange light began emanating from the door jam, accompanied by an odd whirring sound.

"What the-" Harry began.

Hermione pulled open the cupboard door, only to be confronted by yet another wooden door, this one was blue. Harry had no time to glance up at the black sign as Hermione pulled him into the TARDIS.

It was… bigger on the inside, Harry realized as Hermione tugged him inside and shut the door. Everything about it seemed muggle. There were odds and ends switches everywhere. But at the same time, it felt vaguely magical, like Hogwarts. They weren't alone in the large room, however. A man wearing a brown suit and trainers, was leaning against some sort of pillar, grinning.

"Good show Hermione! You've passed the first part of your quiz. On to round two!" called the man, who began flicking every switch within reach. Apparently, some extra button needed pressing, so he bumped it with his heel. "I'd award you ten points for Gryffindor if I could. So let's see now, about three hours back, he said? Hermione would you get that knob over there, my foot can't quite reach it."

Hermione ran over to the consol and turned the knob which the strange man had indicated, leaving Harry standing alone. Harry felt completely lost, and he wasn't at all prepared when, suddenly, the whole room jerked knocking him off his feet and onto the grilled floor.

"Oh, sorry Harry!" Hermione winced, "I forgot to warn you about that. By the way, this is the Doctor. Doctor, this is my friend Harry Potter."

"Pleasure to meet you!" the man exclaimed. "I'd shake your hand, but right now all of mine are a little occupied. By the way, if you were wondering how Hermione's managed to attend multiple lessons at once, Harry, this is it."

"I've been traveling back in time to get to all of my lessons." Hermione explained.

Harry rubbed his head, wondering if he had somehow hit it and entered this strange hallucination. He didn't think so. He pinched his leg, which hurt quite a lot, so that meant he wasn't dreaming either.

"Doctor," called Hermione, "do you need me to hit the extrapolator?"

"The extrapolator? Oh, right, the tribophysical waveform macro kinetic extrapolator? No, not today. Today, I know exactly where we're going! Here we are then, in the forest, just barely within sight of Hagrid's hut. Shall we have a look, see?"

Hermione stared at the Doctor. "So, that's why your really here? It had nothing to do with my classes or the clockwork man, you just wanted to make sure we could save Sirius, right?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that's the only reason, no. Besides the night has only just begun, could have more adventures in the next three hours than a lifetime. Someone else's, of course! For us three, this is just the everyday stuff."

The room had stopped shaking. Hermione sat down on the Doctor's odd couch, looking desperately anxious. Harry, however, wanted a few questions answered.

"What is this place?"

Hermione sighed. "A time machine. It's called the TARDIS, that's short for **T**ime **A**nd **R**elative **D**imensions **I**n **S**pace. It travels anywhere, anytime."

"And him?" Harry gestured towards the Doctor.

"Like I said, he's the Doctor." Hermione continued patiently. "This is his TARDIS. I met the Doctor during my first year at Hogwarts. He's been getting me to my classes all year. Apparently, I was supposed to be issued a Ministry Time Turner, but my application was denied. Madam Pomfrey didn't exactly give me the best of recommendations, so the Doctor came to make things right."

"Time Turner?" Harry asked curiously.

"Oh, right," said the Doctor. "you wouldn't know what that was. It's sort of like the TARDIS, except it's not anywhere near as good. Imagine if time machines were like broomsticks, Harry. Now the TARDIS would be a brand new, fresh out of the factory, limited edition Firebolt, and a Time Turner would be something like - like…" the Doctor paused, trying to think of a suitable comparison.

"The Comet 260?" Harry suggested.

The Doctor shook his head. "No, it'd be like jumping around the Quidditch field on muggle kitchen broom shouting 'I'm flying, Jack! I'm flying!'"

Hermione had been too busy wondering about the business ahead to pay her companions' conversation much attention. She frowned, still deep in thought. "But I don't understand, why does Dumbledore want us to go back three hours?"

The Doctor smiled. "What do you think, Harry?"

Harry, whose stunned brain had stopped working, began thinking over what Dumbledore had said before. "Dumbledore said that we could save more than one innocent life… where were we three hours ago? We had just left the castle and - Hermione, I think we're supposed to save Buckbeak as well as Sirius!"

"That would've been another ten points for Gryffindor!" the Doctor was beaming, "Brilliant, Harry! Now your ready for the real world, three hours ago today!"

The Doctor ran off towards the doors, then stopped, his hand clutching the small door knob. "You know, I've been inside the TARDIS all this year - well, not exactly the entire year - but I've never really been outside… much. Looks like it's time that I ended my own house arrest!"

And with that, he swung the door open and marched outside, into the sunset world. Harry and Hermione followed after him. To Harry, the scene that met his eyes was one of the strangest he'd ever seen. It was a day, done over again. The exact same clouds hung in the air and everything felt the same, except for him. They were at the edge of the forbidden forest, staring out at Hagrid's pumpkins where Buckbeak was tied. The hippogriff was still alive, awaiting the execution they'd heard happen hours before - no, that would be happening within a few minutes.

"Hermione," he said, "this is probably the strangest thing we've ever done."

He glanced back towards Hermione, who'd just shut the TARDIS' door. Then, he looked up at the sign saying 'Police Public Call Box', still trying to make sense of it all.

"What are you?" Harry wondered aloud. "The time police, or something?"

"Time Lord, actually." The Doctor responded. Harry jumped in surprise. "Last one. Very busy. Never seem to get much of a holiday, really. Now, off we go then!"

They found a few large pumpkins to hide behind, waiting for themselves to arrive. After a few quiet minutes, filled with the occasional grunting of Buckbeak, they finally heard footsteps.

"I think that's us!" Hermione whispered excitedly. "We're under the Invisibility Cloak. We should be knocking on Hagrid's door any moment -"

There was a knock, and Hagrid's door opened. Harry heard his own voice speaking.

"It's us. We're wearing the invisibility cloak. Let us in and we can take it off."

"Yeh shouldn've come!" Hagrid whispered. He stood back, then shut the door quickly.

"This is the weirdest thing we've ever done," Harry said fervently.

The Doctor reached inside a suit pocket and pulled out a small bag of popcorn. He opened the crinkly bag and proffered it to them.

"Popcorn?" he offered.

"Err… how did you do that?" Harry asked.

"Pockets." said the Doctor. Harry looked at the pockets, which seemed far too small to hold bags of popcorn. "They're bigger on the inside." The Doctor explained, tossing a kernel into his mouth.

Hermione shook her head, but before Harry could reply, there was the sound of more footsteps approaching. This time they belonged to the Minister of Magic, the executioner Macnair, and Professor Dumbledore, who were all making their way towards Hagrid's hut.

After assuring themselves that the pumpkins were truly hiding them from view, they looked back into Hagrid's hut. But from the window, Harry could see that no one inside had yet noticed the coming arrivals.

"Hermione, what are we going to do? Macnair and the Committee are coming right now and we're not looking!" Harry said urgently.

"Oh, wait a second," whispered Hermione. "we looked around because something hit the -"

"Hey, look!" said the Doctor excitedly. "It's even got an ammonite fossil on it, just like the film! Let me just get out my sonic screwdriver and -"

There was a faint buzzing noise as the Doctor pointed his metal device at a pebble. He looked at the sonic screwdriver reproachfully. "date unknown, seems to be rather typical of your world."

Hermione bit her lip. "Doctor, I don't think now is -"

Before Hermione could finish the Doctor tossed the small pebble up into the air, caught it, and then sent it hurtling towards Hagrid's window. It shattered.

All four of the people inside stared out the new hole in surprise.

The Doctor winced. "Ooh, that window was a bit weaker than I'd expected. Still, it did the job, though, didn't it?"

Harry and Hermione looked at each other. From inside the cabin, they could hear Hagrid swearing.

"Maybe not the best of plans, though." The Doctor admitted, looking up at the sky. "At least it wasn't raining today."

"Doctor," Hermione began timidly, "do you think you might be able to pay Hagrid for breaking his window?" He watched as her eyes wandered down to his pockets hopefully.

"Hermione, money is one of the few things in existence that hasn't made its way into these pockets."

"Oh." she muttered, disappointed.

"Besides," he added cheerfully, "if we free Buckbeak, I imagine that it'll be while before Hagrid can see straight enough to notice much of anything."

The swearing had stopped now. Hagrid, who was looking through the cracked pane, had finally noticed Macnair, the minister and Dumbledore approaching his hut.

"Hagrid is opening the back door." Hermione breathed. "Looks like we're out."

Harry waited until after their other selves' footsteps had faded away, before beginning to get up.

"No!" hissed Hermione and the Doctor together, pulling Harry back down.

Hermione continued. "If we steal him now, those Committee people will think Hagrid set him free! We've got to wait until they've seen he's tied outside!"

"But Hermione, that's going to give us about sixty seconds," said Harry. This was starting to seem impossible.

"If they see Buckbeak before heading in," Hermione reasoned, "then no one can blame Hagrid."

"Plus," the Doctor added, "the other Harry and Hermione are still within sight of Hagrid's hut. One look from them in our direction and, well, let's just say things never turn out right for about - oh, roughly- ninety-nine percent of all time travelers!"

Harry reluctantly sat back down and waited for the Minister and his party to step safely indoors before getting up again. Harry quickly reached the hippogriff and bowed, receiving a bow from the hippogriff in return, then set to work on the knot tying the beast down. It took work, having been tied by Hagrid's massive hands. Once free, however, Buckbeak refused to be led away from Hagrid's hut. Harry pulled, but to no effect.

"He's not moving." hissed Harry desperately. "C'mon Buckbeak! They'll be out any second!"

The Doctor raised his bag of popcorn and shook it. "Here Beaky, Beaky, Beaky! Look what I've got for you! Come on now. That's right, there you go…"

Buckbeak began trotting off to the Doctor, his loyalties to Hagrid suddenly subdued by those to his own stomach. Once in the woods, the Doctor allowed the hippogriff to feast on the popcorn. He looked on and sighed. "I was really hoping that bag would last longer. Oh well! It's for a good cause I suppose."

Harry sat down next to Hermione, who was watching from the edge of the treeline as their past selves tried to get past the Whomping Willow.

"Looks worse from here, doesn't it?" Harry winced. "Ouch - look, I just got walloped by the tree - and so did you - this is _weird_ -"

The tree froze.

"That was Crookshanks pressing the knot," said Hermione.

"And there we go…," Harry muttered. "We're in."

They watched in silence for a moment as the Committee party walked past, heading back towards Hogwarts. Hagrid passed just a minute or two later, whistling and ambling along vaguely in the direction of the Hogshead pub.

"Harry, there's something I don't understand…." said Hermione. "Why didn't the dementors get Sirius? I remember them coming, and then I think I passed out… there were so many…."

"There's only one thing it could have been, to make the dementors go," said Harry. "A real Patronus. A powerful one."

"But who conjured it?"

Harry hesitated, looking over his shoulder. Satisfied that the Doctor was too busy with Buckbeak to listen in, he decided to tell Hermione.

"I know it sounds crazy," Harry swallowed, not even sure if he believed what he was going to say. "I think - I think it was my dad."

Harry glanced up at Hermione and saw that her mouth was fully open now. She was gazing at him with a mixture of alarm and pity.

"Harry, your dad's - well - _dead_," she said quietly.

"Maybe I was seeing things," said Harry. "But… from what I could see… it looked like him… I've got photos of him…."

Hermione was still looking at him as though worried about his sanity.

"Never mind." Harry whispered as they watched Lupin, then Snape enter the Whomping Willow.

As the stars began to shine, the Whomping Willow, which had previously been swatting angrily at a small bird, suddenly froze as small figures began emerging from its base. Harry looked up, seeing himself silhouetted against the starry sky where the moon was full, and he could feel his heart sinking.

"There goes Lupin," Hermione whispered. "He's transforming -"

"Hermione!" said Harry suddenly. "We've got to move!"

"We mustn't, I keep telling you -"

"Not to be seen! Lupin's going to run into the forest, right at us!"

Hermione gasped. "Quick! To the TARDIS!"

"Not on my watch!" snapped the Doctor, who'd suddenly materialized next to them. "My TARDIS, my rules! No hippogriffs allowed!"

"Back to Hagrid's!" Harry said. "It's empty now - come on!"

The cabin was in sight; Harry skidded to the door, wrenched it open, and Hermione, the Doctor and Buckbeak flashed past him; Harry threw himself in after them and bolted the door. Fang the boarhound barked loudly.

"Shh, Fang it's us!" said Hermione, hurrying over to scratch his ears to quieten him. "That was really close!"

"Yeah…"

Harry was looking out of the window. It was much harder to see what was going on from here.

"I think I'd better go outside again, you know," said Harry slowly. "I can't see what's going on - we won't know when it's time -"

Hermione looked up. Her expression was suspicious.

"I'm not going to try and interfere," said Harry quickly. "But if we don't see what's going on, how're we going to know when it's time to rescue Sirius?"

"Well…" Hermione began.

"Relax Hermione," said the Doctor, who had just finished guiding Buckbeak to Hagrid's bed. "I'll go out there with him, just to make sure nothing dangerous happens-"

"What?" cried Harry. "No! I mean -"

"No, I'm going with you. Can't have you running off by yourself, can we? Also, I wouldn't want Fang to start drooling all over my trousers. I like these ones too much - no offense, Fang!"

The boarhound barked, and Harry was sure he could actually hear a note of resentment in the dog's tone.

"Just remember, Harry," Hermione warned, "You mustn't be seen. We are the ninety-nine percent of -"

The Doctor covered his mouth, trying to stifle his laughter. Hermione's brows knit together.

"What?" she asked, sounding the slightest bit hurt.

"Oh, Hermione, you truly are a gem!" he shook his head, smiling at her. "'We are the Ninety-nine percent', that alone would've made this whole year worth while! Just imagine the signs: _Occupy Hogwarts _and -" He caught sight of their nonplussed faces. "Ahh, right, sorry about that… got a bit carried away. Come on Harry, let's go."

Harry couldn't be more dismayed as he shut the door to Hagrid's hut. He'd wanted to go off to the lake and see who had saved them from the dementors. Before he could think of someway to escape the Doctor, the Doctor turned to him, grinning.

"Do you want to find out who cast that patronus back there at the lake?"

Harry was stunned. "Yeah, but didn't you tell Hermione you wouldn't allow me to do anything dangerous."

"Yeah, well, dangerous is kind of relative at this point. Besides you're with me. We both have some work to do, come on!"

Running with the Doctor, Harry discovered, was a lot like trying to keep up with Hagrid. For each stride he took Harry was forced to take two or three. By the time they'd reached the edge of the lake, the Doctor who was breathing easily, watched Harry who was hunched over, gulping in mouthfuls of air.

"Okay Harry?"

Harry, for lack of breath, nodded.

"Good, we'll just hide behind these bushes and wait for the dementors."

"And my dad - I mean, whoever cast the patronus." Harry panted.

"Right! We'll sit here and watch…. Oh, look! There you are on the other side of the lake." Harry could feel the Doctor watching him intently as he continued on. "You're over there now, talking to Sirius… how he's your godfather; your family. He's just standing there now, watching you, wondering whether or not you'd like to stay with him, like a proper family. There you are now, saying yes…." The Doctor turned glanced back towards the lake. "He looks rather pleased, doesn't he? About to be proved innocent, but - oh, there's the first swarm of - of…."

Harry looked over at the Doctor, who had suddenly gone very pale. He was clutching his head now, rocking slowly back and forth, a cold sweat building on his face. Harry shook him. "Doctor? Doctor!"

The Doctor moaned quietly.

Harry looked back up to where he was now fighting the Dementors, seeing how first Sirius, then Hermione fell over. He watched as his own feeble attempts at a patronus were failing, glowing continually dimmer.

"Come on!" he muttered staring about. "Where are you? Dad, come on -"

He looked back down at the Doctor, now recognizing the effects of the dementors. Harry couldn't help wondering at this. The dementors were quite a ways off from where Harry and the Doctor were. Harry, who was particularly sensitive to them, could feel nothing this far away. Yet the Doctor could. Harry found himself caught up, watching as both the Doctor and he himself, from the past, were succumbing to the power of the dementors. Yet where was that image he'd seen, the one that he'd felt for sure was his father. He was utterly alone. Who would save them? The situation was looking desperate.

And then it hit him - he understood. He hadn't seen his father - he had seen _himself_ -

Harry flung himself out from behind the bush and pulled out his wand.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Harry yelled.

And out of the end of his wand burst, not a shapeless cloud of mist, but a blinding, dazzling, silver animal. It was galloping silently away from him, across the black surface of the lake. He saw it lower its head and charge at the swarming dementors…. And the dementors were falling back, scattering, retreating into the darkness…. They were gone.

The patronus turned. It was cantering back toward Harry across the still surface of the water. It was a stag. It was shining brightly as the moon above….

It stopped on the bank. Its hooves made no mark on the soft ground as it stared at Harry with its large, silver eyes. Slowly, it bowed its antlered head. And Harry realized…

"_Prongs_," he whispered.

But as his trembling fingertips stretched toward the creature, it vanished.

Harry stood there, hand still outstretched. Then, with a great leap of his heart, he heard hooves behind him - he whirled around and saw Hermione dashing toward him, dragging Buckbeak behind her.

"_What did you do?_" she said fiercely. "You said you were only going to keep a lookout! Where's the Doctor?"

"It wasn't my dad I saw," Harry said, "it was me. _I_ thought I was my dad! And the Doctor is right over here. He was just about ready to pass out when I conjured the patronus."

Harry pointed just behind the bush at… no one. The Doctor was gone. "Doctor? Doctor!"

Harry spun around, searching for the man in the brown suit. Instead he saw something glittering on the other side of the lake, where the dementors had been. Harry squinted. It almost looked like a suit of armor and it was bending down over someone, the Hermione who was still unconscious. There was the sound of branches breaking and then…

"You won't find it." The Doctor staggered out from some trees on the other side of the lake, pointing his sonic screwdriver at the stooping armor like a sword. "Problem is, she doesn't have it. She never got the Time Turner thanks to our first meeting. She doesn't have the _parts_."

The helmet turned upwards to face the Doctor.

"She doesn't have the parts." he repeated.

"She will have the parts." it spoke mechanically.

"Hermione," Harry whispered. "What's going on? What is that thing? It looks like one of the school's suits of armor, but I've never seen one outside the castle… Hermione?"

Harry turned to Hermione, who was standing next to him, her wand in hand. Harry pulled his out again. They could hear the Doctor, who had started shouting at the armor.

"Haven't you been listening? She doesn't have the parts! You needed that Time Turner because of the sandy particles in the hour glass. Read about it! Turns out they're micro-temporal conducting particles. They can be manipulated and then run through a universal energy transference conduit, to create a massive amount of instant power. Course, a single Time Turner doesn't hold many of these particles, but it might have had just enough to get your ship to the nearest repair station. Oh, about a light year or two's distance from your ship I'd imagine."

The armor stood up. It looked quite menacing, even from Harry's vantage point. Hermione raised her wand, concentrating on the two figures, trying to aim for the armor. "Come on Doctor," she muttered as the Doctor began to advance on the armor. "please just step back."

The armor stood its ground. "She does not _yet_ have the parts."

"Of course she doesn't!" he yelled. "It's over! Don't you see? We interfered too much and now she will never have these so called 'parts' - Oh!" breathed the Doctor.

"'Parts' that's plural! But that means - No! Wait, no! You're not looking for a power boost, you're going in for a complete engine overhaul! But that would take millions of particles to sustain, billions in fact. More than that, even. No single Time Turner would have that many. So why have you been following Hermione? She only ever got one! How could she possibly have access to any more?" The Doctor glanced over towards the other side of the lake, his eyes lingering on Hermione's outstretched wand. He nodded, then turned back to the armor.

"You know that removing such an important part of this world, especially during critical points, could destroy this whole world. I can't allow you to do that. You get one warning. Leave now!"

There was a metallic _ching_ as a small blade protruded from the armor's gauntlet. "She will have the parts." it menaced.

"Well, apparently you've decided to stay." He raised his hands and took one step back. "Alright Hermione… NOW!"

Hermione screamed "_REDUCTO_!"

Harry could see the still lake ripple as the energy of Hermione's spell shot towards her target.

The helmet turned in their direction, reaching one metal gauntlet to its wrist and then -

It was gone.

There was a moment of silence as the ripples in the lake died down. Hermione lowered her wand, her hand shaking. She sighed.

The Doctor let out a roar of frustration, yelling at the heavens. "No, no, no, no! I'm not finished with you yet!"

"Doctor!" called Hermione's disheartened voice from the other side of the lake. "Doctor! We have to leave now! We mustn't be seen by anyone. Someone's sure to be here soon."

The Doctor gritted his teeth, still staring up into the sky, hesitated, then slowly hobbled back to where Harry and Hermione were standing with Buckbeak.

He looked worse than when Harry had seen him near the dementors. By the time he'd arrived back, he was deathly white and was unable to walk in a straight line without support. But he was also mad, very, very mad. The look on his face reminded Harry of the time when Uncle Vernon had become so angry he'd torn half of his moustache out. Then it all faded as the Doctor sighed, rubbing his face as he leaned against Buckbeak.

"Thank you Harry." he whispered quietly. "I had no idea the dementors would affect me so.… Congratulations Harry, you truly are the one percent."

Harry frowned, watching the Doctor, as an idea suddenly dawned on him. "You knew, didn't you, that I was the one who'd cast that patronus. Why didn't you tell me?"

The Doctor smiled weakly. "Well, where's the fun in that? It's all part of the concept that we, the less-than-magically-adept, like to call self-discovery! Besides, if I'd told you before hand that you were about to produce a truly spectacular patronus, altering time and space to save your own life, you might not have done it nearly so well."

They were all silent for a moment, then the Doctor sighed. "I think - I think I'd like to go back to the TARDIS now. It's been a very busy day."

Hermione looked at him anxiously. "But Doctor, what about Sirius -"

"Oh, don't worry. Technically, you've done this before, although it was in a different timeline…. But everything will work out fine!" The Doctor, who was still leaning against Buckbeak tried to stand on his own. He winced, leaning back once more. "Uhh, no… probably shouldn't try that again anytime soon. Might be in need of some chocolate about now… I've still got some that Hermione brought me from Honeydukes a few days."

Harry frowned. "Honeydukes? But the last Hogsmeade visit was last month."

"Really?" The Doctor wondered. "My how time flies… alright, back to the TARDIS, we can split the last of it there, if you'd like."

Hermione bit her lip. "We can get you to the TARDIS, but we'll still need to find Sirius. I'm sorry."

The Doctor smiled at her. "You'll do just fine, Hermione. You always have. Just be amazing!"

"Is this goodbye, then?" Hermione asked tentatively.

The Doctor was grave. "For now…. But -" he added. "I'm sure we'll meet again soon. Can't seem to get away from this place for long, can I?"

Hermione smiled, though there were tears gathering in her eyes as they took the Doctor back to his TARDIS.

"Doctor," Harry said as he and Hermione helped the odd man to the Police Public Call Box. "if it makes you feel any better, Peter Pettigrew got away too. Maybe they'll never come back… maybe they're both gone for good."

The Doctor sighed, leaning himself against the TARDIS' doors. "No, I don't think so."

He watched Harry mount the hippogriff, then smiled at Hermione. "I had a rather enjoyable year with you. Maybe we can do it again sometime. Oh, and by the way Hermione, you did pass the test, just in case you were wondering."

Hermione hugged him before climbing aboard Buckbeak, tears streaming silently down her cheeks. She and Harry waved one last time before taking off, flying towards Flitwick's study, where Sirius now awaited the dementors.

The Doctor leaned against the TARDIS' doors, watching them fly away. Then, a few moments after they reached the castle, he could see Buckbeak flying away again, this time with only one passenger, Sirius. He looked on until they'd disappeared over the horizon, then sighed, entering the TARDIS.

Hagrid had had a very good time. After aimlessly walking and singing to himself, he'd finally found his house. Now he was just trying to find his doorknob. His massive hands wrapped themselves around the knob, turning it.

"There we go!" he muttered.

Suddenly, Hagrid's dulled ears heard an unfamiliar sound in the wind.

_Vworp, vworp_.

"Wha' the -" he began, his bleary eyes searching the forest for the source of the noise.

For one moment, Hagrid could've sworn he saw and odd blue box, just beyond his pumpkins, but then it was gone.

Before Hagrid could think much of it, Fang began barking for Hagrid to come inside. He shook his head, sure that his bleary eyes were seeing things, and decided it was time for him to hit the sack.


	4. Chapter 4

**Part IV **

_Vworp, vworp._

Rose and Mickey both looked up from the abandoned ship's control panel as the TARDIS began phasing into the room. Rose folded her arms, watching as the blue doors opened to reveal the Doctor nibbling on a chocolate bar.

"Brilliant! This stuff actually works! Who knew chocolate could be so magical? Want some? It's Honeyduke's."

"Alright!" cried Mickey.

"Been gone a while." said Rose, ignoring the offering. "It's been about five hours since you left."

"Hours? Not minutes?" the Doctor asked.

"_Hours_." Rose repeated firmly.

The Doctor frowned. "That means there's a glitch in the programming. Can't handle more than a few odd variables. I must've come as a complete shock to the system. Let's have a look."

The Doctor handed the rest of his chocolate bar over to Mickey and stood next to Rose, looking intently at the control panel. He began expertly pressing buttons, then stopped once several bars appeared on the screen.

He pointed at the one which was mostly empty. What little that was contained inside it was flashing red. "See this one right here? That's the ship's warp engines. Looks like they're running low… only about five or six more hours left. Maybe seven at most."

He flipped a switch and a new bar came into view, a green one that was slowly filling up. "That must be the speed there. Now that I'm not a factor anymore, it's starting to move faster again. And seven hours! This is going to be complicated…."

Rose eyed him suspiciously. "Complicated? What do you mean complicated? You're not going back in there, are you?"

"Five hours! My how time flies! What have you lot been doing while I was gone?"

"Searched through the ship's database." said Rose. "Found a file on the Harry Potter books, so I had Mickey start reading them. He's on book two now. Oh," she added darkly. "incidentally, while we were reading the first book, it talked about singing Fluffy to sleep. You failed to tell us _that_ detail before you left."

"Slipped your mind, did it?" grumbled Mickey, his mouth still filled with the Honeyduke's chocolate. "Tried to keep us stuck up in here with a three headed dog guarding our door!"

The Doctor sighed. "It was worth a try. Sorry to have missed the concert, though… I'm sure Mickey's singing voice is quite lovely. Soprano, I imagine!"

Rose bit her lips, smiling for the first time since the Doctor's return. Mickey, however, was scowling at the Doctor. He savagely bit off a large chunk of chocolate as Rose continued.

"Anyway, we found out where the crew went. All the ship parts look human and that smell we found earlier, it's coming from the furnace… we think that - I think that…." Rose's face paled as her voice trailed off.

"Barbeque." The Doctor breathed.

"Yeah." she muttered.

"The clockwork man was just doing what it was programmed to do. Repairing the ship any way it can, with whatever it could find. No one ever told it the crew weren't on the menu."

Mickey crumpled up the now empty chocolate wrapper. "Those clockwork things are everywhere! Decked out in armor, like they were getting ready for battle or something."

"What?" said the Doctor. "How many?"

"Too many. We tried finding a switch, so we could shut them all down, but they found us. So me and Rose came back here for a while. Seems they don't like the three-headed do either."

"Are you going back?" Rose asked again, urgently.

The Doctor ignored her. "Time Turners. They're after Time Turners because they have a particularly powerful energy particle in them, called micro-temporal conductors. These can be used to create a whole new energy supply for this broken down ship. They were only after Hermione because she was supposed to have a Time Turner in her third year, but now they want more. Every Time Turner in existence there, probably. And apparently, if they've read their Rowling correctly, Hermione's supposed to have access to them all - but when? How!" The Doctor slammed his fist against the control panel.

"Maybe if we do a quick scan," Rose reasoned. "there might be some sort of a clue somewhere -" The Doctor cut her off.

"But there aren't anymore more Time Turners mentioned! Maybe it's somewhere in her future, beyond the books. But, we've only got about seven hours, at best. That's time for only one more year."

"Why can't we just let it go? It's only a book, it's not even real!" cried Mickey.

"That's the problem. It's starting to become real, expanding beyond the original framework. While I was there, gaps were being filled in. During the first few days, most of the books from the Hogwarts library were relatively blank. Rowling hadn't written those books, so there was nothing to fill them with. By Christmas, however, every page was stocked full of information, information which had never been written into the Harry Potter series… and then there were the dementors…. Those were _very_ real."

The Doctor sighed. "I've just got to go back!"

Rose began punching buttons adamantly. "I'm checking the books. Won't take long… isn't like there are seven of them or anything."

"What did you say?" The Doctor breathed.

"I'm checking the-"

"No, no, no!" he snapped. "After that, what did you say after that! How many books are there?"

"Four or five. Why?"

"Four or five, four or five, why four or five…. Rose, do you remember exactly what happens in the fourth book, _The Goblet of Fire_?"

Mickey suddenly lit up. "Isn't that the one with the wizard sports tournament or something? I remember there was this one person in it, an imposter… really twitchy." He squinted at the Doctor. "looked almost like you…."

The Doctor glared at Mickey. "Since Mickey obviously remembers the fourth film, we'll assume that book isn't relevant. What about the fifth book, Rose? You weren't so sure about _The_ _Order of the Phoenix_."

She bit her lip. "It's all kind of vague, really. I remember this woman, this teacher at Hogwarts -"

"Dolores Umbridge." The Doctor supplied.

"Yeah, Umbridge! Wore pink a lot, nasty bit of work."

"Do you remember anything else, anything at all? Doesn't matter how small or unimportant it seems!"

"I remember Harry yelled a lot…." her brows furrowed. "And some sort of army…."

"The Order of the Phoenix?"

"No, a student army… Dumbledore's Army."

"Anything else?" The Doctor persisted.

"Nothing. It's all a blank after that."

"Okay," The Doctor said to himself. "so, after the first meeting of the D.A., Dolores Umbridge cancels all extra curricular activities to stop Harry and friends forming their defense group. Then the D.A. must try to figure out somewhere to meet secretly. Throw in a few more detentions for Harry and some homework, then you've got Dobby. Dobby tells Harry about the - Oh! That's clever! Can they get in, though? No, not by themselves, they'd need help. _Or_ they could simply follow some unwary student inside. There's a slim chance, but they might actually pull that one off… but what if they don't? What would they do?"

"I dunno, give up?" Mickey suggested unhelpfully.

The Doctor shook his head. "Nah, they must have some sort of master plan…. They knew Hermione would have a Time Turner, but that wasn't the primary one they were after. There has to be one place, one time that they've been waiting for. Their last chance. Something obvious, something about time, maybe being disrupted or…."

In his excitement, the Doctor banged his fist on the panel again. "The old grandfather clock, that's it! And in the fifth book too! Could be dangerous, very dangerous…. Once I get there, I'll need some help - people who either weren't there or who disappeared for a while - for protection."

"Protection? From what?" Rose demanded.

"Spells, there'll be loads of them." The Doctor waved a hand vaguely. "The sonic screwdriver isn't exactly a match for a magical wand. For starters, wands are made from wood. It doesn't work well on wood."

"Avadacadavra…." Rose whispered. The Doctor turned to face her.

"What?" he asked.

"Avadacadavra," Rose repeated. "the killing curse from the Harry Potter series. What would happen if it hit you?"

The Doctor became solemn. "I'd die. Now then," he clapped his hands together, all solemnity vanishing. "the question then becomes how do I manage to navigate through Hogwarts this year?"

Mickey frowned. "Why not just the usual way - using the TARDIS and popping in and out everywhere you want."

The Doctor shook his head. "No, too obvious this year. Umbridge will be looking for something bizarre. She's liable to assume that the TARDIS is some sort of secret weapon aimed at the Ministry of Magic. And if I'm discovered by her, there'll be too many awkward questions…. Besides, I'll need to keep a constant look out around the school."

Mickey laughed. "You could enroll as a student. You might be put in some remedial section with Neville Longbottom!"

"Clearly you don't remember the seventh book, Mickey. I'll let that one go just this once." the Doctor thought for a moment. "No, not a student, perhaps a teacher."

"A teacher?" Rose's eyebrows shot up. "You, a teacher, at a school for witchcraft and wizardry, with no magical experience and no wand?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Stranger things have happened. Of course, I'd have to learn about money. I've always been a bit vague about money."

"Yeah, but what kind of crackpot professor would hire you?" Mickey grinned. "You're not even a wizard."

The Doctor gave Mickey a very smug look.

"The headmaster will be with you in a moment, Mr. Smith." Minerva McGonagall said crisply, gesturing toward a large statue of a griffin whose wings gracefully encircled a man-sized space.

The Doctor grinned. "Thanks, wish me luck!"

McGonagall's lips curled into something resembling a smile. "Good luck, Mr. Smith."

Excitement mounting, he stepped in between the griffins massive wings. He turned to face McGonagall and winked. "Yeah, I know you're just humoring me, but it's appreciated all the same!"

One of her eyebrows shot up, but the Doctor could definitely distinguish a smile now. There was the sound of shifting stone and then the floor beneath the Doctor began to slowly spiral upwards. Within a few moments, the Doctor's view of McGonagall was obscured by the stone walls as he rose above the entryway. By the time his ride had stopped in front of a door which housed a golden griffin's head knocker, the Doctor could barely contain his excitement. Of all the things in Hogwarts, the headmaster's office was one of the things he'd been looking forward to seeing most.

He could feel both of his hearts fluttering as his fingers touched the door handle. He turned it, taking a steadying breath before exhaling.

"Allons-Y" he whispered to himself reassuringly. With that, he flicked open the door and eagerly stepped inside. He barely noticed the door closing behind him as the sights and sounds of Dumbledore's office seized upon him. All the many devices reflected a golden light off the lenses of his glasses.

"Wow!" The Doctor began spinning around, trying to take everything in. "This is amazing, truly spectacular! Look at that thing –" he bent over an odd sort of instrument, which was housed on a spindly stool. "- moving all on it's own – I don't even know what it does. Brilliant! Ooh, it just emitted a puff of smoke!" he straightened up. "There're so many different contraptions, all shifting, moving, sliding, gliding, twisting, turning, just like – well, exactly like magic!"

He turned towards an innocent looking alcove cabinet and smiled knowingly. "And there's the cabinet where Dumbledore keeps his pensieve – I wouldn't mind one of them!

His gaze wandered upwards to the walls, where a mass of gentle snores where coming from. "And look at all the moving portraits, just pretending to snooze away for my benefit, listening to every crack-pot thing I say." He winked at the nearest portrait. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

The Doctor admiringly turned to look at the Headmaster's desk, but was distracted by a gentle cooing noise. Perched on a gilded pedestal at one side of the desk was a beautiful scarlet bird the size of a swan. Satisfied that it had gotten it's guests attention, it began to sing the most heart rending of melodies for him.

The Doctor drew closer to it, feeling the song fill him with the warmth and sadness of centuries past and of those yet to come. All too soon, the song ended as the bird began again to examine the Doctor. After the last echoes of the final note died away, the Doctor held out a bent arm, which the bird flew towards gracefully. It landed lightly on his forearm, staring intently up at him. He could feel the bird's warmth radiating throughout his entire arm.

"That," said the Doctor reverentially, stroking the bird's head. "was beautiful, Fawkes. Phoenix song…"

"'Course" the Doctor continued. "I've read all about you; how you rescued Harry down in the Chamber of Secrets, healed his wounds after the Triwizard Tournament and then saved Dumbledore's life during his duel with Voldemort…. You were brilliant - well, you _are_ brilliant! Always going out, risking your life for the ones you love. For millenia bursting into flame and always coming out a different bird. Finally giving one last song and flying, flying far beyond the horizon after Dumbledore's…. No." With his free hand the Doctor pulled off his glasses and scrutinized the phoenix. His mouth fell open.

"It's like looking into a mirror... except I'm not ginger. I've never quite managed ginger hair during any one of my regenerations. Lucky you!"

"I am pleased to have an applicant who is so well versed in his subject." The Doctor started guiltily as Fawkes alighted from his arm, flying upwards toward the voice. The Doctor's eyes followed the phoenix's flight as it sailed through the air towards the top of the stairs where an old man stood, peering at the doctor through half moon spectacles. He was a tall man with a snow white beard dressed in fine wizard's robes. Though disappointed to no longer be the center of Fawkes's attention, the Doctor's hearts leapt as he recognized the man who was now serenely descending the stairs.

"Albus Dumbledore! A pleasure to meet you at last, sir, in the flesh!"

"I hope that I haven't kept you waiting here for long." replied Dumbledore, his voice much stronger and clearer than most humans of a similar age. "I was just attending to some matters of important business. The writing of a small letter to an... acquaintance, which I have only now just sent off. It concerned an incident involving the use of underage sorcery in the direst of circumstances. I felt it necessary to remind this particular student's guardian of her responsibilities to protect her charge."

The Doctor tried his best not to smirk, remembering the howler which must be well on its way to a Mrs. Petunia Dursley, the kitchen, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. This, the Doctor thought, must be the night Harry had had to save his cousin from two dementors and then had faced the possibility of eviction from his aunt and uncle's house. When Dumbledore came to the Doctor they shook hands.

"No, not waiting long at all. Your phoenix and the portraits made for excellent company, sir." Dumbledore sat down at his desk and gestured towards a chair, which the Doctor obligingly sat in. He imagined that it must've been the same chair Harry had and would always use during his meetings with the headmaster.

"Now then, you are aware that this position is one of a temporary nature? That upon his arrival, Professor Hagrid will be returning to his full duties, including that of teaching?"

The Doctor smiled. "Naturally. I wouldn't have it any other way, Professor."

"Good, now, Mr. Smith, what exactly was it that interested you in applying for the post of Care of Magical Creatures teacher?"

"Well," began the Doctor. "I just woke up one day and thought 'I want to teach at Hogwarts.' I figured that since the only other post was Defense Against the Dark Arts, well, I wouldn't say I'm very good at defending against the dark arts. Offending world shattering evils is more my style. Anyway," The Doctor pulled out his wallet containing psychic paper and held it out for Dumbledore to see.

"Since I happened to have a degree in Magical Creatures from the Durmstrang Institute and I've also happened to discover evidence of the krumple-horned snorkack during my manifold travels to the rugged - though clearly magical - parts of Eastern Europe I thought I'd apply. I'm not particularly fond of blizzards, but after all the years I spent at Durmstrang, I've learned to bundle up in balaclavas - nice word, _balaclava_ -"

Dumbledore looked from the Doctor to the psychic paper with mild interest, then returned his gaze once more to the applicant, an amused twinkle in his blue eyes. The Doctor felt something, as thin as vapor, trying to pry into his mind. He mentally brushed aside Dumbledore's attempts at legilimancy before continuing.

"Anyway, to make a long story short… er, I've decided that I'm the man for the job. Guess I couldn't help myself, really."

"I see," replied Dumbledore. "So, when are you going to tell me why you are really here, and what it was exactly that you were expecting me to see on that blank paper of yours."

The Doctor looked at his psychic paper. "Really? You didn't see anything? No certificates? Not even a page from the Quibbler?"

Dumbledore peered at the Doctor over the rims of his half-moon spectacles. "No, should I have, Mr. Smith?"

The Doctor grinned boyishly. "You truly are a genius, professor! Only a proper genius could have possibly seen through the psychic paper!"

"In light of your discovery that I am, in fact, capable of 'above average' intelligence, I would suggest that you do not resort to using the Quibbler for any part of this conversation again. And, let us also assume that as a 'proper genius' I am not likely to be fooled for one instant into believing that you have ever stepped foot into the Durmstrang Institute. I find the prospect woefully difficult to believe."

"It would have been disappointing if you had believed it, professor. Though it might have made things a lot easier for me. The truth is rather complicated. I'd hardly know where to begin!"

Dumbledore slid open a desk drawer and pulled out a dark blue envelope, whose front he examined idly. "A good place to start, perhaps, Mr. Smith, would be with this application that you sent to me via the muggle postal system."

"Ah, well, I was a bit short on letter carrying owls at the time -"

"A curiosity," interrupted Dumbledore. "which I find to be a great source of interest, is the date which is stamped on this letter. Muggle post offices always stamp the date of the receipt into their system on the front of the letter's envelope. It is called a 'Postmark'. Did you know that, Mr. Smith?"

"Yes."

"After being postmarked, the letter then spends one day in commute before arriving at its final destination. Now, Mr. Smith," he glanced up from the envelope. "can you explain to me how this simple letter found its way to my mail before my advertisement for this temporary post found its way to the Daily Prophet's offices? Oh, and how this letter happened to be postmarked for a few hours before Professor Grubblyplank's letter, in which she declined my offer of employment owing to a very lucky lottery number, arrived here in my office?"

As Dumbledore looked intently at him, the Doctor felt the same light nudging on his mind again. This time he let it see into a small section of his mind, the section filled with Hermione and the clockwork man. He smiled sadly as he spoke.

"Knew you'd set me up with an interview if there was a puzzle involved. I'm very sorry Professor Dumbledore, but you need to give me this job. Something is going to go very wrong this year if I can't stop it. I have specialties, other specialties, that can be used to get rid of the problem. I'll need to be here throughout the year."

Professor Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his hands steepled as he gazed up at the ceiling. He closed his eyes, looking much older than he had a few minutes before.

"If you are telling me the truth, this is far more complicated than I could have anticipated with the arrival of your letter." he sighed. "But can I really trust you? Is what you have revealed to me your true intention?"

"Yes."

"Almost two years ago, a young third year by the name of Hermione Granger began appearing in multiple places at once, presumably through a form of time travel. Professors McGonagall and Snape both expressed concern to me on this point. Naturally, I investigated the matter and discovered that Miss Granger was in fact receiving assistance in traversing time."

"After some consideration, I concluded that having a 'time machine', as muggles would call it, in the capable hands of Miss Granger could prove useful. That was, as you might remember, the same year that Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban. I felt that if Harry Potter were to have found himself in mortal danger, that perhaps Miss Granger could devise some means of escape for him. The 'machine' was not quite so accessible as a Time Turner would have been, but a protection for Harry nonetheless."

Before Dumbledore could continue, there was a knock at the office door.

"Enter." Dumbledore called.

A man in black flowing robes entered the room. His face, for the moment was obscured from the Doctor's view by sheets of greasy black hair. The Doctor only managed to catch sight of a pale hooked nose before the man had stepped in front of the headmaster's desk, for the moment blocking Dumbledore from the Doctor's view. There was the crinkling sound of paper exchanging hands.

"Ah Severus," Dumbledore sighed. "I see it is time again for your usual application to the Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching post. I'm afraid you already know my answer and my reasons."

"Cursed!" The Doctor coughed. Snape turned to face the Doctor, his dark eyes boring down upon him.

"What did you say?" he hissed.

"Nothing, I said nothing." the Doctor replied calmly. "Only coughed. Goodness, haven't you ever heard anyone cough before?"

Before Snape could retort, Dumbledore stepped in. "Severus, this is Professor John Smith. Professor John Smith, Professor Severus Snape."

Snape glowered at his new colleague. "_Professor_ John Smith?"

"Bit of a surprise to me to as well." agreed the Doctor, proffering his hand to Snape. Snape gave it the briefest of handshakes before returning his attentions back to Dumbledore.

"I am permitting Professor Smith to temporarily fill in for Professor Hagrid while he is gone."

"I see…." Snape glanced at the Doctor from the corner of his eyes, making contact with the Doctor's. The Doctor, who was ready for Snape's attempt at legilimancy, mentally slapped it aside. Snape frowned.

"And after Professor Hagrid's return, he is then to take up the post of Muggle Studies teacher for the rest of this year. Professor Burbage's mother, I'm sorry to say, is very ill. Charity has expressed a strong desire for extended leave, to set her mother's affairs in order."

"Is that so…."

"He has proven himself to be quite an adept at using the muggle postal system. He sent his application through it. Just have a look at the letter, Severus. See how he was able to buy just the right amount of _stamps_."

Dumbledore turned the envelope over to reveal two stamps, each of which featured a 1960's police Public Call Box. Snape's eyes widened in recognition.

"_You_!" he bellowed. "That blue box - the one that invaded the castle two years ago!"

"Severus," Dumbledore continued, as though nothing had changed. "I will be needing you and Minerva to keep an eye out for Professor Smith so long as he is with us. He has no magical training of his own. However, he does seem to have an impressive amount of talent in occlumency, which I'm sure you will have already noticed."

"Yes…" Snape said, eyeing the Doctor with greater suspicion.

"Should he need any magical assistance, he is to go to either you or any of the other heads of house."

Snape grimaced. "Anything else?"

"No, I think that covers everything. Thank you Severus, you may go now."

Once Snape had left, the Doctor crossed his arms in annoyance. "Clever, flashing those stamps. Now I'll be lucky if he stops watching me long enough to even blink!"

Dumbledore spread out his hands innocently. "In these troublesome times, one cannot be too careful. Over the years, I've learned to be quite vigilant about my staffing assignments."

"Let's see," still annoyed, the Doctor counted on his fingers. "one imposter, one werewolf, a fraud and a man with two heads… that about sum it up so far?"

Dumbledore stared at his own hands for a moment. "The Defense Against the Dark Arts post has always been most difficult to fill."

"With a track record like that, I can imagine so. To find a good teacher, you'd literally have to give your right hand away - oh!" the Doctor stopped in the act of wiggling the fingers of his right hand in front of the headmaster, thinking. "Professor, is there anything else that we need to discuss? Only, there's a quick errand I need to do… something important. I can't believe that I forgot about it."

"There is the matter of wages…." Dumbledore began.

The Doctor leaned in closer. "Professor, I know as much about wages as the average house elf."

Dumbledore was silent for a moment. "In that case, we will discuss the matter later. Suffice it to say, I will pay you the average wage for new teachers here at Hogwarts. Start of term is the first of September. And now, I must send the Daily Prophet another advertisement, this time for the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Cornelius Fudge has been hinting for some time now that if I can't find one before next week, he will personally choose one for me."

An image of Dolores Umbridge in a pink fluffy cardigan pushed its way into the Doctor's mind. "Urgh…. Just imagine who _he_ might choose."

Dumbledore sighed. "Someone woefully unqualified for the job, I am sure. Goodnight Mr. Smith, or should I call you Doctor?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Just Smith for now. It's truly been an honor to meet you, sir."

Dumbledore's eyes gleamed. "It is certainly a more preferable arrangement than our last one."

"You mean my sneaking around while you pretend not to notice me?" The Doctor grinned.

Dumbledore smiled in turn. "Exactly. Good luck with your errand, Professor Smith."

"It's a simple matter of grabbing something before anyone else can." the Doctor said, almost to himself. "Shouldn't take too long."

Smiling, the Doctor opened the door and left Dumbledore to his letter writing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Part V**

Rattling and swaying, the Hogwart's carriages started to move in a convoy up the road towards the school. Hermione was jostled, bumping into Ron, as their carriage made its way from Hogsmeade Station to Hogwarts castle. She, Ron, and Harry were sitting on one side of the couch while Ginny sat on the other next to an odd girl named Luna Lovegood. Hermione had been introduced to Luna, a fourth year in Ginny's class, on the train a few hours after it had left London.

Within two minutes of meeting, Hermione had made the serious mistake of commenting on the girl's magazine, the _Quibbler_, calling it a piece of rubbish.

Admittedly, these days, the _Daily Prophet_ wasn't much better. _But_, Hermione reasoned to herself, _at least most of it was _factual _rubbish! _There was still a stray chance of finding the truth, buried somewhere amidst all the _Prophet_'s rhetoric.

Naturally, it had turned out that Luna Lovegood's father, Mr. Lovegood, was the editor of the _Quibbler_. That had not proved to be a good conversation starter with the girl.

Even now, Hermione couldn't think of a single thing to discuss in front of Luna.

"Did anyone see Hagrid?" asked Ginny, breaking up the awkward silence. "I didn't see him out there gathering the first years like he usually does. He can't have left, can he?"

"No, he can't have," Harry said, half to himself. "He's just got a cold or something..."

"I'll be quite glad if he has left." said Luna. "He isn't a very good teacher, is he?"

"Yes he is!" said Harry, Ron, and Ginny together.

Harry glared at Hermione who hadn't said a word. She _liked_ Hagrid, but for once this Luna girl seemed to have her facts straight about something: he _wasn't_ a very good teacher. The problem was that he had no happy medium, giving lessons that were either legendary for their dullness, or the ones that they'd all had to survive, huddling together behind his hut.

In the name of friendship only, Hermione cleared her throat and quickly said, "Erm... yes... he's very good."

"Well, we think he's bit of a joke in Ravenclaw," said Luna, unfazed.

"You've got a rubbish sense of humor then," Ron snapped, as the wheels below them creaked, tilting the carriage as it rolled over a large rock.

Luna did not seem perturbed by Ron's rudeness; on the contrary, she simply watched him in mild interest with her unnerving, protuberant eyes. The couch continued moving onward in silence.

It jingled to a halt near the stone steps leading up to the castle's oak front doors alongside the other carriages. They opened the doors and Hermione followed Harry out of the couch, and watched as he studied the front of their horse-less carriage.

"Is everything alright, Harry?" she asked as he continued staring at the floating yokes for a minute or so.

"Hermione, was there ever anything in _Hogwarts, a History_ about big, leathery horse-things pulling the carriages?"

Hermione walked up next to him and stared at the floating yokes too. They seemed quite unoccupied to her.

"No, I don't think so. It's probably just a simple locomotor spell, why?" The look on Harry's face was making her a bit nervous.

"It's just that-" Harry began, but was interrupted by Ron, who yawned and said, "I'm starved! Can't wait to get my hands on some chops!"

"Come on Harry," Hermione said in relief. "Let's go and see if Hagrid's in the Great Hall, shall we?"

The Great Hall was packed full of students trying to find their seats as she, Ron, Harry, Ginny, and Luna entered the double doors. Luna drifted away from them, towards the Ravenclaw table, as they began looking for any sign of Hagrid. Even with an entire sea of students, moving and shoving them about, Harry managed to get a glimpse of the head table, where the teachers usually sat.

Harry's face set. "He's not there."

Hermione, Ron, and Ginny scanned the staff table too, though there was no real need; Hagrid's size made him instantly obvious in any lineup.

"He can't have left," said Ron, sounding slightly anxious.

"Of course he hasn't," replied Harry firmly.

Hermione began to feel uneasy. "You don't think he's... _hurt_, or anything, do you?"

"No," said Harry at once.

"But where is he then?" Ginny wondered.

There was a pause, then Harry said very quietly, so that Neville, Parvati and Lavender, who were standing nearby, could not overhear, "Maybe he's not back yet. You know - from his mission - the thing he was doing over the summer for Dumbledore."

Ginny nodded and Ron seemed reassured, but Hermione bit her lip, looking up and down the staff table, hoping for some conclusive explanation of Hagrid's absence. But there was none. There wasn't even a teacher sitting in Hagrid's empty chair...

But there was another teacher, a toad-like woman who Hermione didn't recognize. The woman was wearing a pink cardigan, and was apparently in deep discussion with Albus Dumbledore.

"Who's that?" she said sharply, pointing at woman so that Ron, Harry and Ginny could see her. Harry gaped.

"It's that Umbridge woman!"

"Who?" said Hermione.

"She was at my hearing; she wanted to expel me from Hogwarts - for using magic against the dementors this summer. She works for Fudge!"

Hermione frowned and Ginny's eyebrows shot up, Ron, however, smirked.

"Nice cardigan," he said.

"She works for Fudge?" Hermione repeated, ignoring Ron and Ginny's laughter. "What on earth's she doing here, then?"

"Dunno..." muttered Harry.

Hermione busily scanned the staff table once more looking for someone, anyone else, who could possibly fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, but there were no other possible candidates there.

"No," she whispered, "no, surely not..."

Before she could finish, Ron tugged at her sleeve urgently.

"Who's that?"

"Hmm?" Hermione pulled her thoughts away from the Ministry of Magic representative, to look at the man who had just taken Hagrid's seat at the staff table. The man was smiling, glancing all about him like a boy entering Honeyduke's sweets shop for the first time. His glasses reflected the flickering light of the floating candles above him.

Hermione gasped.

Harry peered at the man through his round glasses. "Hermione, isn't that... isn't he the-"

"Yes," Hermione breathed. "that's him. What is he doing here?"

Hermione barely noticed Ginny, who suddenly became very rigid, eyeing the new arrival warily. Stiffly, she turned back towards Harry and Hermione, an odd look in her brown eyes. It had been a while since Hermione had seen Ginny truly unnerved.

"You know that -" Ginny began, but then Dumbledore signaled for the entire hall of students to be seated.

Ginny hesitated, then sat down next to a group of her friends, leaving Hermione, Harry and an dumbfounded Ron behind her.

They found an empty space at the Gryffindor table and sat down in silence. Finally, Ron spoke.

"So, you know him?"

"Yes," whispered Hermione and Harry together.

"He took Harry and me inside his, well, I suppose the only way to describe it is a 'time machine'." Hermione explained.

Ron gave her a blank look, so she added. "It's like a Time Turner, but it's not really like a Time Turner at all. Oddly enough, that's actually how he first described it to me."

Ron screwed up his eyes, looking very much like his mock impression of Goyle trying to think. "Time turner, Time Turner... sounds familiar. What exactly is a Time Turner, Hermione?"

"It's a Ministry regulated device that allows you to go back a small distance in time, a few hours at most, only, according to the Doctor, it's full of micro-temporal conducting particles. They can be converted into some sort of energy that -" Ron put out his hands to shield himself from the tidal wave of knowledge that was Hermione Granger.

"Whoa – I don't need to know _that_ much! It's not going to be on an exam or anything, so take a breath why don't you."

Hermione 'hmphed' as Ron gathered his thoughts. "So, know why he's here this time? It's not like you've got another Ministry Time Turner, is it?" Ron added hopefully, but Hermione shook her head.

"No, no Time Turner this time. I don't know why he's here... hopefully not for the same reason as last time..."

"Which was?" Ron prompted her.

"To protect me. To protect everyone, actually."

Ron frowned, looking back up at the staff table, deep in thought.

Then, all at once, he became excited. "Do you think he'd be giving rides this year? I mean, I don't have much money, but if I could travel back in time... maybe pull a joke on Fred and George for once. They wouldn't expect to see me in two places at once throwing -"

"_Ron_," hissed Hermione. "You - are - a - _Prefect_!"

"Oh, right." Ron muttered, bitterly. "So, will you be traveling with him again?"

Hermione sighed. "No, I suppose not... It was fun, but we only did that because we needed to save Snuffles." Snuffles was their codename for Sirius whenever they discussed him in public. "I was supposed to travel back in time, not with the TARDIS, but with my very own Time Turner. If the Doctor hadn't intervened, then Snuffles would have been worse than dead. The Ministry would have had the dementor's kiss performed on him. If the Doctor uses the TARDIS this year, it's because something else has gone _very_ wrong here."

"Sorry," Ron said, rubbing at his ear. "I could've sworn you just said the word 'tardis'. Hermione, even _I_ know that that's not a real word."

Hermione opened her mouth, but then Professor McGonagall came into the Great Hall, bringing the new first years with her. They were heading up to a spindly stool on which sat the most ragged and torn hat imaginable, the Sorting Hat.

The sorting ceremony was always something Hermione looked forward to. She enjoyed watching the young eleven year olds' faces, at first filled with anxiety, but after their sorting, filled with joy as they sprang up from the stool and ran to their new houses.

Before the sorting could begin, the Sorting Hat would serenade the hall with a ditty of its own invention. Usually the song would include a basic description of the houses and their history, but this year was different. This year, amidst the rhyming references to the long dead school founders was a warning. The hat began to urge everyone to band together to avoid future suffering. Of course, being in Dumbledore's office all year, Hermione imagined that it must have heard a hatful's worth about the return You-Know-Who.

If Hermione's suppositions were right, then You-Know-Who wasn't the only thing that was going to be returning.

She shivered slightly. Of all the years for the Doctor to come back, why now? Or, more importantly, why should the clockwork man want to come back now. That was what the Doctor was always after whenever he stepped into her world.

As the hat continued to chant, calling for the houses to lay aside their enmity and unite, Hermione absently watched the Doctor. He was now mouthing the words to the Sorting Hat's song, but everyone else was too busy listening to notice this strange detail.

She sighed as the full weight of everything fell on her. No, she realized, this really wasn't going to be like her third year at all. She'd had the Doctor all to herself then, just the two of them in the TARDIS traversing time and changing history (or re-enacting it, as she was sure the Doctor would say, since she was supposed to have changed history without him). But it would be completely different now. She'd have to share him with the whole school, a thought she found strangely disheartening. After he'd first left, she'd often lain awake, wishing she could travel in the TARDIS once more, but now more than ever, she knew just how impossible that was.

The song was nearing its end now. The hat, and the Doctor for that matter, had described all of the different houses, and were now lamenting the need to sort people at all. After it finished and the sorting commenced. The whole student body held its breath as each boy or girl nervously put on the frayed hat, then there would be cheers as the hat's shouts echoed in the hall "GRYFFINDOR!", "HUFFLEPUFF!", "RAVENCLAW!", or "SLYTHERIN!" The specified house then would always be the loudest.

When the last first year, "Zeller, Rose", was sorted into Hufflepuff, Professor McGonagall picked up the hat and stool and marched them away. As she did so, Dumbledore stood up and told the students to "tuck in" for their start-of-term feast.

With the headmaster's pronouncement, food of every description sprang up on the gold plates on the tables. Hermione began regretting her decision to sit next to Ron, who was busily cramming everything within spearing distance of his fork into his mouth.

Occasionally, Hermione would glance up at the staff table and watch the Doctor who was sitting next to Professor Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher. He was chatting with her excitedly, pointing up at the enchanted ceiling, where the stars flickered merrily through the hall's wooden beams. She smiled, staring up for a moment at the sheer vaulted ceiling, before turning back to her feast.

Professor Sinistra had just put her goblet to her lips when the Doctor whispered something to her. She almost choked on her mead, just managing to cover her mouth with a napkin, laughing sweetly. The Doctor apologetically handed her his napkin.

"Not jealous, are you?" said a voice near Hermione.

Hermione started guiltily, turning to face Ron who, for once, didn't look like a chipmunk whose cheeks were crammed with food.

"Me, jealous?" she tried not to blush. "No! Where do you get such ideas Ron!"

Ron shrugged, giving the now laughing Doctor and Professor Sinistra, an annoyed look. "Only it isn't the first time you've fancied a teacher."

"I don't 'fancy' him, Ron." snapped Hermione. "I admire him. He's a brilliant, fascinating, wonderful, compassionate -"

They could hear Professor Sinistra's laughter echoing from all across the hall now, accompanied by Professor Sprout's and Professor McGonagall's as well. Even Snape was watching now, an eyebrow held up disapprovingly.

"- ladies' man." Ron finished, smirking.

Hermione refused to dignify this last remark with an answer, instead turning back to her half eaten potato, cutting it with more force than was necessary.

After every potato and scoop of ice-cream had been properly consumed, Dumbledore got up once more to speak.

"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices," said Dumbledore. "First years ought to know that the forest in the grounds is out of bounds to students - and a few of our older students ought to know by now too." Hermione, Ron, and Harry exchanged smirks.

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four hundred and sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door.

"We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome Professor Smith, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons -"

The Doctor, still sitting at the staff table, smiled and inclined his head.

"Smith?" Ron snorted. "What kind of a name is that for a time traveling - "

Hermione shushed him as Dumbledore continued.

"We are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was a round of polite but fairly unenthusiastic applause before Dumbledore spoke again. "Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the -"

And then, something happened which had never occurred in all the years Hermione, Harry and Ron had been at Hogwarts: someone interrupted Dumbledore.

"_Hem, hem_."

The woman Dumbledore had introduced to them as Professor Umbridge was standing up now, prepared to give a speech.

Hermione watched and listened to the little woman in the pink cardigan with rapt attention, frowning. She didn't like what she was hearing at all - and she wasn't alone, either. The smiles on every teacher's face, if there was even one there at all, appeared to cost a great effort on their part.

Dumbledore, who had managed to smile genuinely throughout the entirety Professor Umbridge's speech, waited until she was quite through before continuing again.

"Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating," he said, bowing to her. "Now - as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held..."

"Yes," Hermione agreed quietly. "it certainly was illuminating."

"You're not telling me you enjoyed it?" Ron said quietly, still fighting the glazed look he, and almost every other student in the hall, had attained from the speech. "That was about the dullest speech I've ever heard, and I grew up with Percy."

"I said illuminating, not enjoyable," corrected Hermione. "It explained a lot."

"Did it?" said Harry in surprise. "Sounded like a load of waffle to me."

"There was some important stuff hidden in the waffle," said Hermione grimly.

Ron's face was completely blank. "Was there?"

"How about 'progress for progress's sake must be discouraged'? How about 'pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited'?"

"Well, what does that mean?" said Ron impatiently.

"I'll tell you what it means," said Hermione through gritted teeth. "It means the Ministry's interfering at Hogwarts."

There was a great clattering and banging all around them; Dumbledore had obviously just dismissed the school, because everyone was standing up ready to leave the hall. Hermione jumped up, looking flustered.

"Ron, we're supposed to show the first years where to go!"

"Oh, yeah," said Ron, who had obviously forgotten. "Hey - hey you lot! Midgets!"

"_Ron!_"

"Well, they are, they're titchy..."

"I know, but you can't call them midgets... First years!" Hermione called commandingly along the table. "This way, please!"

Hermione smiled encouragingly as a group of new students walked shyly up to her and Ron, all trying hard not to lead the group. It would be their very first night in Gryffindor tower.

After she'd finished taking care of the first years and telling them where they'd be sleeping, Harry came up to her.

"Hermione," Harry said. "I've been thinking, do you suppose the Doctor would know where Hagrid is?"

Hermione smiled. "You know, he might. We can ask him during our next Care of Magical Creatures lesson."

Harry smiled in relief as she bid him and Ron goodnight before heading up to her own dormitory. She had work to do.

While guiding the first years, and a hapless Ron as well, Hermione decided to have a look at her new Defense Against the Dark Arts book. She hoped that it would give her a better idea of just what that Umbridge woman was up to. She opened the door to her dormitory, where Lavender Brown, Pavarti Patil and Eloise Midgen were all getting into their pajamas, talking animatedly. The chatter stopped once Hermione entered.

Halfway through investigating the tidy heaps of her luggage, Hermione paused a moment, realizing that the usual idle chatter had not yet picked up again. She frowned.

"How were your summers?" she began in a would-be casual voice.

Lavender didn't even bother with the niceties. "How can you still be hanging around that Potter boy after last year, when he said You-Know-Who had returned."

Hermione looked up from her trunk, Umbridge's assigned book in hand, staring at Lavender in disbelief.

"The _Prophet_'s been talking about it all summer," Parvati added. "about how delusional he is. Do you really believe the rubbish he and Dumbledore were saying after Cedric died?"

"Yeah, we thought you were smarter than that."

Hermione slammed the lid of her trunk shut. "Of course I believe him!"

"But he's a liar, Hermione. Everyone says so!" shouted Lavender.

"Even the Ministry thinks so." mumbled Eloise quietly, her head bent down. Eloise was really nice and it was so hard for Hermione to hear that even she had been taking the Prophet's word over Harry's.

Hermione began walking out of the room, but before she could fully open the door, she heard Lavender say, "How can _you_ of all people possibly be _that_ naive?"

Fingers still clutching the handle, Hermione turned to Lavender, who looked at her as though she'd never truly seen Hermione before.

"Lavender," Hermione said in forced calm. "keep your _big fat mouth shut_. The _Prophet_'s wrong, the Ministry's wrong. Dumbledore isn't senile and Harry _is_ telling the truth. He's back - V-Voldemort's back!"

Lavender shrieked and the entire room of girls shuddered, including Hermione herself. She'd never used You-Know-Who's name before, and wasn't liking the experience much. It felt too much like swearing.

Hermione opened the door entirely to make a grand exit and almost knocked into Ginny, who's fist had been raised in the act of knocking on the recently displaced door.

Ginny looked inside and smiled knowingly. "Not interrupting anything, am I? Only, there was a lot of shouting." she let her words sink in before adding to Hermione. "I just wanted to talk to you for a few minutes."

Hermione, relieved to have a proper excuse to leave, quickly flew back to her trunk, pulling out some yarn.

"Yeah... alright," said Hermione, a little disheveled. "you can help me with some more of my knitting. I've got loads of hats I want to make - and scarves too! For the house elves, you know, so that they can embrace their freedom in Wizarding society."

Ginny had never truly agreed with Hermione's stance on house elf rights and SPEW, but she didn't argue. "Of course, Hermione."

Parvati rounded on Ginny. "What do you think, Ginny - you have read the _Prophet, _haven't you - about Potter and Dumbledore?"

"What did you say, Hermione, before you opened the door?" Ginny asked coolly.

"I told her to keep her big fat mouth shut." Hermione muttered, trying to sound like she still meant it after the fact and failing.

Ginny's smile broadened. "I couldn't have said it any better. Come on, Hermione. I'll show you how to purl stitch if you'd -"

"Ginny," said Lavender. "You don't honestly believe all that mumbo-jumbo Harry's come out with, do you?"

Ginny didn't even have to say whether she did or didn't believe Harry. All she had to do was give them a steely look. "Yes, I do."

Parvati sniggered. "Of course you do Ginny. How long have you fancied him now, three years?"

"Yes, everyone knows you _love_ Potter!" cried Lavender, laughing shrilly. "Only, to him, you're nothing more than Ron's little sister! Ogles all over Cho Chang, though, doesn't he? Think she'd settle for a nutter - or maybe you're the only one stupid enough to go chasing after someone who should've been committed?"

"Oooh!" squealed Parvati menacingly.

For the most part, Ginny was the little sister Hermione had always wanted. She was very brave, smart, calm, collected, and cool - except in moments like this one, when only brave came out.

Hermione rammed herself through the doorway and shut it before Ginny could make bat-shaped bogies fly out of Lavender's nose. There was a brief scuffle between the two as Hermione tried to restrain Ginny, who was now shouting names at the closed door far nastier than You-Know-Who's, her wand still extended.

Then, as suddenly as it had started, it was over and Ginny was back to her calm, cool self again - although she wasn't quite collected yet. Her hair was sticking up in a few odd places.

"I'm a prefect, I would've had to give you detention, Ginny." Hermione whispered in Ginny's ear consolingly.

Ginny pulled away from Hermione, brushing back a few strands of red hair which had caught themselves in her eyelashes. Her face was still red with fury. "So? She deserved it."

Hermione paused for a moment, choosing her words very carefully. "Yes, she did, but that doesn't mean you need to earn yourself a detention before term even starts."

Ginny shrugged. Collected was starting to come back to her. They began walking down the stairs to the common room.

Hermione finally felt it was safe enough to add, "And you're dating Michael Corner."

Ginny nodded.

"How's that going, by the way?"

"Fine. Nothing really. I haven't seen him all summer, so there isn't anything new."

There were still a few people in the common room when Hermione and Ginny arrived. When Hermione asked what it was Ginny wanted to talk about, Ginny shook her head and gestured at Fred and George, who were among the room's current inhabitants. They had their ginger heads bent over a piece of parchment, which one of them was writing on. Likely something for their _Weasley Wizard Wheezes_, which Hermione imagined she'd probably have to confiscate from them in the morning.

The girls sat on the old cushioned chairs in front of the fireplace as they waited, Ginny playing with Crookshanks and Hermione reading _Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilbert Slinkhard. If everyone thought Professor Umbridge's speech was full of waffle, Hermione couldn't begin to imagine how they'd get through Slinkhard's book.

The book wasn't that long and the Weasley twins stuck around for a while, so Hermione began to slowly leaf through the small volume. She was just glancing through the book for a second time when Ginny nudged her. The common room was quite deserted now. She closed the book.

"How was it?" asked Ginny, who was now staring absently at the fireplace mantel.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "More waffle. It's not even fit for a first year - a five year old more like!"

Ginny turned from the fireplace to Hermione as the latter ranted.

"It doesn't even have a section on the proper use of defensive spells. I looked them up in the glossary, and it directed me to this -"

Hermione vehemently threw open the book and read, "There is no reason to resort to the use of any Defensive spells when dealing with a problem. Rather than barbarously attacking a fellow wizard, remember the muggle maxim '_sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me' _- it's absolute rubbish, more so than the _Quibbler_!"

Ginny blinked, then took the book from Hermione, re-reading the passage several times.

"Must've been a complete idiot, this Slinkhard." Ginny agreed, handing it back to her. "Most spells _are_ words, and some of them _can_ kill you."

She paused for a moment, looking back at the fireplace before saying. "Ready to learn how to purl?"

Hermione watched Ginny carefully as they started going through the motions of knitting. Ginny was usually a very straightforward sort of person, but now she seemed very distracted, as though she didn't know where exactly to begin with much of anything.

There were only two things that left Ginny speechless, the first one being Harry, but she had been doing really well all summer - she'd actually _talked_ to Harry. The second was her first year at Hogwarts. Ginny was very touchy about that one, having been hoodwinked by You-Know-Who into attacking several muggle-born students.

Hermione couldn't blame her for still being upset over the matter.

"Ginny," Hermione began, once she'd finally gotten the stitches to work right. The knitting needles were now magically suspended in midair, purling a row of yarn for her. "What did you want to talk to me about earlier?"

Ginny looked down at her fingers, which she wove together nervously. Hermione's knitting needles started to crisscross faster now as she waited for Ginny's response.

Ginny started to speak, stopped, sighed and started again. "Hermione," she bit her lip. "Who is the Doctor?"

Hermione's knitting needles fell out of midair.

"How did you -"

Ginny didn't look up, but continued. "Only, it looked like you and Harry recognized him. I thought you might know..."

Hermione picked up the fallen needles and began to untangle the newly knotted yarn. "Yes, I know him, but how on earth do you?"

Ginny rocked back and forth a bit, finally looking up at the fireplace again. "During my first year when… well, when the Chamber of Secrets was opened, I was just sitting here with a group of friends, when the fireplace began to turn."

Hermione's mouth became a very round 'O' as Ginny continued.

"There was a man there in a brown suit... He knew exactly who I was and - and he told me to chuck Riddle's diary. Called himself the 'Doctor'... Claimed to have gotten lost in a tapestry or something."

Hermione was looking at the fireplace too, now. "Sounds just like him."

"Who is he?"

The knitting needles slowed as Hermione thought about this. "I don't know, really. He's always been a bit of a mystery; never could find him in the library..."

Ginny looked expectantly at Hermione, who added, "He travels in time, between our world and his. He said once that he 'wasn't from around these parts' and that he's not human. He told Harry that he was something called a 'Time Lord'. Apparently, whatever Time Lords are, they don't get enough holidays."

Ginny looked confused, so Hermione began to explain everything, about traveling with the Doctor during her third year, saving Sirius, and the clockwork man who'd been haunting her since her first year. Ginny listened attentively.

"Do you think Dumbledore knows about this?" said Ginny.

Hermione nodded. "Dumbledore doesn't usually hire someone on a whim... except perhaps for that Umbridge woman. What was he thinking!"

Ginny began smiling again. "That is one thing I have to agree with the _Prophet_ about, Dumbledore does manage to find the strangest teachers. This Doctor is _literally_ from out of our world."

They both grinned at each other.

"Well, thanks for talking with me, Hermione." Ginny got up and added nervously, "Do you really think Hagrid's alright?"

The knitting needles slowed again. "I hope so... Harry, Ron and I are going to ask the Doctor about during our Care of Magical Creatures lesson. He probably knows. There isn't much around here that he doesn't already know."

Hermione watched as Ginny left for bed, then plucked the knitting needles out from midair and sighed, staring at the fireplace once more, thinking.

The first day of class proved to be as gloomy as the weather around them, raining on any hopes Hermione had for their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Umbridge, like Slinkhard's book, determinedly treated her pupils like five year olds. No spellwork, only book reading. She wouldn't be teaching them defensive spells, only enough magical theory to get them through their exams. And only the Ministry's propaganda was to be spoken in the classroom. Needless to say, Harry then began shouting about Voldemort's return to a stupefied classroom, offending Umbridge and earning himself several detentions to boot.

Back in Gryffindor tower, just before heading off to bed, Hermione hid the hat she'd knitted with Ginny the previous night. It was a new facet of SPEW, knitting clothes for house elves, so that they could gain their freedom. When she'd explained this to Ron, he'd laughed, insisting that it might not count as clothes because it looked like a 'wooly bladder'. Hermione had then stormed off, refusing to wish him a goodnight.

She marched up to her dormitory, hurriedly pulled on some pajamas and threw herself into bed. Hermione knew she'd prove Ron wrong about SPEW - and her knitting! Surely the elves would want their freedom! They must be tired of being so oppressed by Wizarding society!

Hermione turned over and sighed. This had been, what with Umbridge, Harry and Ron, the worst beginning of term she'd had yet. But there was hope. After all, she, Harry and Ron would start their Care of Magical Creatures lessons tomorrow.

She smiled. It would be nice to see the Doctor again... say hello, and ask him about Hagrid. He must know where Hagrid had gone, she thought, just before drifting off to sleep. He had to, he was the Doctor.

"Everyone sitting comfortably? Good." The Doctor smiled as the class settled itself down on the grass near Hagrid's cabin. "Let's begin, shall we? Who can tell me what these are?"

He indicated the heap of twigs on the trestle table in front of him. Hermione, remembering Hagrid's disastrous first class, desperately shot her hand up into the air. Admittedly, Hermione's hand was always the first one up, but this time she was genuinely anxious to answer first. If the Slytherins were given time to make havoc like they'd for Hagrid, things would turn out very badly.

Behind her, Malfoy drawled loudly "Well, gee, professor, they look awfully like sticks to me… but if you can't see that, maybe you shouldn't be teaching us, you being a squib and all."

The other Slytherins, who had by now heard that their new professor didn't even own a wand, eagerly joined in Malfoy's taunting, laughing hysterically. Hermione was about to turn around and scold them when she caught sight of the Doctor's face. Though his expression was still friendly, she couldn't help noticing an odd glint in his eyes, almost as though he were expecting something to -

Pansy Parkinson's annoying shriek of laughter turned almost at once into a scream, as the twigs on the table leapt into the air, revealing themselves to be what looked like tiny pixyish creatures made of wood.

The Doctor winced, covering his ears. "My how you shout! Oh, and five points from Slytherin, Draco, for speaking out of turn."

Malfoy groaned, who was rubbing the ear which had been next to Pansy's screaming mouth, didn't even notice he'd been docked points.

Hermione could hear a note of smugness in the Doctor's tone as he continued. "Now then, before Miss Parkinson can cause us any further hearing loss, what were you going to say Miss Granger."

Hermione gave Malfoy, who was still rubbing his ears and quietly mouthing every swearword known to man, a remarkably dirty look before answering. "Bowtruckles, they're tree-guardians, usually live in wand-trees."

"Brilliant! Five points to Gryffindor for actually doing your summer reading and not just phoning it in."

There was silence as the majority of the students' heads tilted, their confusion evident. The few students who had been raised in muggle families, smiled uncertainly. Hermione could just hear Parvati whispering to Lavender "Foe-ning? What's foe-ning? Think that'll be on our exams?"

"I suppose I mean that -" the Doctor looked up, wincing. "well, no, I suppose I don't know what I meant, actually, but, the point is she did the homework." he clapped his hands. "Okay, moving right along. Now, the bowtruckle..."

The lecture was, even by Hermione's standards, really quite good. She sighed in relief, her worst fears abated. He had not only handled the Slytherins' attacks, but it was also clear that the Doctor had not just 'phoned in' his homework either. All those months he'd spent in the TARDIS, reading the books she'd smuggled him from the library, had clearly not been wasted.

After explaining bowtruckles at great length and awarding Hermione an additional ten points for answered questions, the Doctor set them to task with drawing a bowtruckle. The class surged forward around the trestle table. Hermione, Ron and Harry deliberately circled around the back so that they ended up right next to the Doctor.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked. "Where's Hagrid?"

The Doctor didn't immediately answer, instead placing some woodlice on the table, watching the bowtruckles waddle over to their meal. Once they'd begun dining on the woodlice, the Doctor turned to them, hesitantly. "Well, Professor Grubbly-Plank would've been here, but she happened to win the Daily Prophet's sweepstakes. One in a million chance - or so I'm told." he added quickly.

"Funny," Ron said, "but she never struck me as the gambling type."

The Doctor shrugged with feigned innocence. "Found the winning ticket in a blue envelope left on her doorstep in the middle of the night…." he coughed unconvincingly. "At least that's what the other staff members are saying."

Ron eyed him suspiciously and was about to say something when Harry spoke.

"But what about Hagrid!" said Harry desperately. "You've got to know something. Maybe-"

The Doctor held up his hand. "Listen Harry, I've been told just as much as you three: nothing. Anyway, you'd better pick out a bowtruckle before they're finished eating. They get a bit tetchy after that."

Disappointed, they reluctantly turned towards the trestle table.

"Oh, and Harry,"

All three of them spun around to face the Doctor. The Doctor was watching him now, suddenly and clearly concerned.

"Yes, professor?" Harry said hopefully.

"Be careful with your bow truckle, they tend to bite when they're squeezed."

"You really know how to pick them, don't you Hermione." Harry grumbled, nursing the bowtruckle bite he'd received during class. "He's worse than Trelawney, you know!"

"No, he's not!" Hermione's cheeks were bright red. "How could you say such a thing!"

"But Hermione, he _knew_ I'd get bitten by his class project!"

"No," Hermione corrected him. "he only knew you'd be angry enough to squeeze your bowtruckle. Getting bitten was your own fault, Harry. If you had only listened to him - or not lost your temper when Malfoy was baiting you - then -"

Ron groaned. "Hermione, this isn't going to be one of your Lockhart years, is it?"

Hermione didn't speak to Ron for the rest of the day.

The first week of school had proved to be quite terrible, but no one in Hogwarts could have anticipated that the next one would be worse. At breakfast Monday morning, Hermione let out a huge gasp and flattened the newspaper to reveal a large photograph of Dolores Umbridge, smiling widely and blinking slowly at them from beneath the headline:

_MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM_

_DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED FIRST-EVER "HIGH INQUISITOR"_

Harry and Ron gaped in horror as Hermione read the passage aloud, hating every word coming out of her own mouth. The Ministry, it seemed, were not satisfied with simply having one of their own inside the castle's walls, they wanted to control it as well. And what better way of controlling a school than giving their operative more power, making her overnight second only to Dumbledore. According to the article, the new High Inquisitor would be visiting every class and grading every teacher.

Over the next two days, Hermione, Ron and Harry watched as Umbridge did just that, sitting in on their various classes, questioning each teacher and scoring the day's performance. She would always scribble the results on a clipboard which served as her constant companion.

She'd even tried to interrogate Professor McGonagall, a feat which proved impossible. McGonagall was not someone easily intimidated and Hermione thought it foolish of Umbridge to have tried. Umbridge had left a triumphant McGonagall, seething.

By the end of their Transfigurations lesson, Hermione had hoped they'd seen the last of Umbridge for the day, but she was wrong. When she, Ron and Harry walked down the lawns toward the forest for Care of Magical Creatures, they found her and her clipboard next to the Doctor.

"Oh no," Hermione breathed. "Not her again!"

"That's right Granger," drawled a voice behind them, "I think that squib's days of teaching are over. You know, he never really was much of a professor anyway…. Personally, I think even that great oaf Hagrid knew more about magic than he ever will."

Malfoy was spared a good cursing only because Hermione was far too busy watching the professors to have paid him any attention.

The Doctor reached out and shook Umbridge's hand. "Why hello, you must be Professor umm -"

He smiled apologetically. "- sorry, I'm not very good with names. It's Professor- it's on the tip of my tongue - Ah yes, now I remember," he said, comprehension lighting his face.

"it's Professor Dumbridge! What an honor it is to meet you at last."

Umbridge's smile tightened as she said "It's Junior Undersecretary to the Minister and Hogwarts High Inquisitor Dolores Umbridge."

The Doctor winced theatrically. "Sorry, I missed it amongst all those lovely titles of yours… would you mind repeating it again for me?"

"I'm Dolores Jane Umbridge, Junior Undersecretary to the minister and Hogwarts High Inquisitor." stated Umbridge, her sickeningly sweet voice strained a bit.

"Numbridge?" he asked innocently.

"It's Umbridge, Um-bridge." she repeated slowly, as if talking to a child.

"Oh, yes," the Doctor hit his forehead then beamed. "of course, so it's Umbrage."

She didn't even bother trying to look sweet as she angrily scribbled on her clipboard.

Malfoy looked as though Christmas had come early. "He's doing an even worse job than I thought he would!"

Hermione ignored Malfoy, instead heading over to the trestle table, hoping perhaps to stop the Doctor, to warn him about just how dreadful Umbridge truly was.

"You do not usually take this class, is that correct?" Hermione heard Umbridge ask when she'd arrived at the table within sight of the Doctor. She tried to make a quick slashing movement across her neck, anything to make him stop.

Just as Umbridge caught sight of her, Hermione quickly made as though she'd been scratching her neck, watching the group of captive bowtruckles scrabbling around for wood lice like so many living twigs.

Hermione could have sworn the Doctor had looked at her just before Umbridge had. However, he smoothly continued as though Hermione wasn't there at all.

"No, not really. I'm only taking this class until Professor Hagrid's return."

"Hmm," said Professor Umbridge, dropping her voice, though she could still be heard quite clearly by Hermione and her classmates, "I wonder - the headmaster seems strangely reluctant to give me any information on the matter - can you tell me what is causing Professor Hagrid's very extended leave of absence?"

"Sorry," he smiled pleasantly at her, "haven't got a clue, else I might've joined him to get away from you. Pardon me, but it looks like I have a class to teach now. Feel free to sit quietly at the very back and watch, but no 'hem hems' while I'm giving lecture. Afterwards, you can talk to me and my students to your fluffy pink heart's content, which you probably would have done anyways."

Hermione's heart stopped. Every single member of the class, even Malfoy, had their mouths hanging open. Silence reined, and then Professor Umbridge, who was the first to break it, sniffed and headed towards the very back of the class, scribbling as madly as ever on her clipboard.

"Now class," the Doctor began, as though he hadn't just upset the second most powerful person in the entire school. "bowtruckles, bowtruckles and more bowtruckles…"

After the Doctor's lecture, which, fortunately, was his best yet, Umbridge interrogated Dean Thomas at length before she returned to the Doctor's side. Hermione listened anxiously, having already finished the class assignment (the rest of the class listened with her, assignment finished or not), as Umbridge resumed in a sickeningly sweet tone, "Now then, what do you, as an outsider, feel about how this school is managed."

"Fine." he said.

"Surely you have more to say on the matter." she pried delicately.

"Not really, no. Personally, I think this school is run just fine."

"And what is it that you did before taking this post?" Umbridge simpered irritably.

"Traveling to the farthest reaches."

"-of the globe, yes?" supplied Umbridge.

The Doctor sincerely thought about this for a moment. "No, actually, I've never been to the Globe Theater. Should sometime, though. I've heard it's quite charming in the springtime, just before the sun bakes what was still a remarkably polluted river Thames." then he added suddenly very serious. "Generally, I travel to where my expertise is needed, particularly with what you'd term 'magical creatures.'"

Professor Umbridge gave one of her small coughs, indicating a disbelief that he had any specialty worth having. "And what are you planning to cover with this class this year - assuming, of course, that Professor Hagrid does not return?"

"My, how much you assume!" the Doctor shook his head. "If left here for a year I suppose I'd prep them for their O.W.L.'s, cover porlocks and kneazles, make sure they can recognize crups and knarls, you know…. They've already studied unicorns and nifflers."

With a scratchy flourish, Umbridge finished writing on her clipboard. "Well, at least you have _one_ thing under your control."

The Doctor tried not to smirk.

"Well, at least that's one more thing than you have." and with that, he walked away, kindly helping Neville pick out another bowtruckle after his first had run away from him.

Just before the class was to be dismissed, the Doctor spoke to them. "Now then, I have your homework from last week. Though the majority of you seem to have mastered the basic concept of drawing, a few of you, err, need to constrain yourselves to the subject in question.… If you must insist on drawing red, loopy, hearts all across your homework, at least make sure they are anatomically correct ones."

Parvarti Patil, Lavender Brown and a surprising majority of the girls began giggling with laughter.

Umbridge 'hmphed' in disgust and Hermione rolled her eyes.

The Doctor continued as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. "Though if you truly are seeing their hearts, then you've probably just killed your bowtruckle - and you _will_ be docked points for that!" This last comment was aimed at Crabbe and Goyle, both of whom had gone through at least three bow truckles each. With that, class was dismissed.

Hermione waited until they were half way to the castle before eagerly showing Harry and Ron her homework.

"What am I supposed to be looking at?" Ron wrinkled his nose and looked up at her, "Surely you didn't draw 'anatomically correct hearts' all over this, did you?"

Hermione blushed furiously. "Of course not Ron! Look at the note he left on the bottom."

Harry snatched it from Ron and read quietly, "Meet me at Hagrid's Hut, after Harry's detention. Come in the invisibility cloak. P.S. Burn this assignment after reading."

Harry handed it back to her, puzzled.

Ron grinned. "Can you burn a homework assignment Hermione, or do you need me to?"

Hermione sighed and passed it to him. "No, you can do it."

Ron crumpled up the parchment and, pointing his wand at it, muttered, "Incendio." It immediately began to smolder, crumpling into a dark ash. "Does anyone else get the sense that he's off his rocker?"

It was ten o'clock that night when Ron wandered into the Gryffindor common room after a long session of Quidditch practice. Hermione was quite proud of him, successfully making it onto the team, though she, like the rest of Gryffindor, hoped he'd improve before the first match. He was struggling... _immensely_.

Ron, after a quick change from his Quidditch robes, took up vigil with Hermione, who was still waiting for Harry. He'd started Umbridge's detention at five o'clock, five hours before.

The last straggler left the common room by eleven-fifteen. There was still no sign of Harry. Ron was busily working on Snape's newest essay, his face screwed up in concentration, as though each word he wrote were an essay in itself.

After over six hours of waiting for Harry, Hermione had had enough. She jumped up from her chair and began pacing, venting her hours of frustration. "Oh why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut! McGonagall's warned him not to upset Umbridge; Sirius told him she was dangerous; she's clearly bent on taking over the school and determined to knock everyone down who sides with Dumbledore. But does he listen? Does he ever even _think_ before yelling out everything Umbridge is fighting against? No! He's lucky he only has to write lines." Hermione sniffed irritably. "Any _other_ teacher would have made him do something more: cleaning the trophy room, or hospital wing, some _actual_ service to the school."

"Writing lines, honestly!" Hermione laughed bitterly. "When does that ever work? Even Slinkhard understood that _'sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me_- '"

"You're wrong." Ron muttered.

Hermione stopped pacing and turned to Ron, who'd paled noticeably. He was staring at the ground, looking oddly close to being sick.

She hesitated before saying, "What? Well, of course Slinkhard's wrong, but Harry really shouldn't be -"

Ron's cheeks had turned a light shade of green. "No. Words can hurt,"

"Well, of course they can Ron," Hermione admitted. "spells are after all _made_ from words but-"

Ron's voice was quavering now. "Harry lied to us."

Hermione frowned as Ron's words sank in. "What do you mean? Hasn't he been writing lines?"

Ron took a steadying breath. "Oh, he has been writing lines, but..."

"But what?"

"He's been writing them with a Blood Quill… do you know what that is?" He looked up from his shoes long enough to watch her shake her head uneasily before explaining in dull disgusted tones, "It's dark magic, Hermione, that's what it is - it takes the writer's blood for ink, spelling out each word on the holder's skin... He's been carving 'I must not tell lies' into the back of his hand for over a week now."

Hermione opened her mouth, but shut it again, speechless. When she finally spoke, her voice was cracked. "_That_ - _Horrible_ -_Woman_. I'll - I'll go get my potions kit, find some essence of murtlap." Her throat tightened even more. "It's supposed to - to numb the pain."

She rushed off to her dormitory to fetch the ingredients, feeling ill, determined now more than ever that Umbridge must be stopped.

When Harry finally arrived at midnight, Hermione could see that the scarf around his hand was dripping blood. She quickly saw to it that Harry's bloodied hand was immersed in the murtlap solution. She tried not to notice how the small scarlet ringlets were slowly coloring the murky liquid.

Much to Harry's chagrin, Hermione and Ron remembered their appointment with the Doctor, meaning that Harry would have to forgo the murtlap solution. Hermione quickly resolved this issue by seizing Harry's soiled scarf, dipping it into the bowl and tightly wrapping it around Harry's scarring hand.

As the gold and crimson scarf slowly grew more crimson, Harry went upstairs and grabbed the invisibility cloak, which they then slid over themselves. The invisibility cloak barely covered the three of them entirely now, their ankles occasionally showing from under the hemline as they crept along towards Hagrid's hut. Ron, being the tallest, was forced to slouch a great deal to prevent this.

Before any of them could knock on the hut door, it was opened and the Doctor's voice invited them in. The hut was crowded, more crowded than they'd ever seen it before, even with Hagrid inside. Hermione smiled. There, in the furthest corner of the room by the fire, loomed the big blue box Hermione had practically lived in during her third year, the TARDIS. Apparently, the Doctor didn't have the heart to leave his precious box out in the cold.

The Doctor laid a large bowl, full of murky liquid, on the table and beckoned Harry towards it. "Just some murtlap oil. Madam Pomfrey was quite happy to help me find some. Anyway, come have a seat Harry and just stick your hand in there."

Harry, clearly stunned, obediently unwrapped his most recent vestige from Umbridge's detention, which had begun to stick to the scarf. He winced, gently submerging his hand into the liquid. Hermione and Ron each sat on opposite sides of him.

"Thanks." Harry breathed, smiling gratefully at the bowl.

Hermione however, was watching the Doctor who was busying himself with a kettle over Hagrid's fire. She frowned. He hadn't once looked at Harry's hand and, if she didn't know better, he was now trying to avoid the sight of the scarlet lettering all together.

Harry was now frowning at the Doctor too. "How did you know about my hand? I haven't told anyone about it - well, except Ron, of course."

"You knew." Hermione whispered. "You knew Umbridge was – was doing this, didn't you?"

The Doctor sighed, bringing with him the tea kettle and several Hagrid-sized mugs. "Yeah, I knew. I knew, Hermione."

He quietly placed them on the table before turning to a cupboard in the TARDIS' shadow, rifling through a drawer.

"Then why didn't you stop it?" Hermione asked in an injured tone. "Why didn't you warn us or Dumbledore or someone about this? About her!"

He stopped searching the drawer. "That's actually why I've invited you here. Look, I've brewed some tea and I've got a few biscuits somewhere-" he began searching the drawer again, this time emerging with a round blue tin. "they're Jammie dodgers - sorry they're bit stale. Have as many as you'd like, they're not really my favorite."

"Which are?" Ron asked curiously.

"Gingersnaps." He placed the tin on the table and sat down opposite them, looking at each of them very seriously before turning to Hermione.

"Hermione," the Doctor said very gently as Ron began opening the tin. "I hate this more than you can possibly know. If I could, I would march up to the school right now, pull her pink-jim-jamed highness out of bed and throw her directly into the galloping, armed and very angry herd of centaurs just out there – and _leave _her. If I did eventually yank her out – twigs still sticking out of her hair and pink cardigan completely ragged – I'd then have her thrust into Azkaban for a lifetime sentence. And that's if I didn't get creative, which believe me, is something that would make even Voldemort cringe. Do I make myself clear?"

At the mention of You-Know-Who's name, Ron coughed, choking on the multiple Jammie dodgers he'd shoved into his mouth moments before. Hermione flinched as both she and Harry stared at the Doctor, wondering what possible horrors he could imagine that would make even You-Know-Who cringe.

"But," the Doctor, obviously upset now, continued bitterly. "I can't. She's a fixed event and if I mess with her (as seemingly wonderful as that would be), everything will be destroyed. Ultimately, I have to let her ruin your lives to save your lives, a concept which, believe me, is grating heavily on my nerves."

The last time Hermione had seen the Doctor this angry had been after their most recent encounter with the clockwork man, when it had gotten away. She remembered him shouting at the heavens, ordering it to come back because he wasn't finished with it yet. At the time, she'd been quite sure that 'finished' actually meant 'dismantled from head to foot and trodden upon' in his dictionary. Suddenly a wave of pity for Umbridge swept over her. Umbridge, whatever she had or would do, was dancing on the edge of a knife with this man. Hermione realized that Umbridge was probably, right now, the luckiest woman in the world, being too important to the future for the Doctor to do more than throw snide comments at her. In retrospect, that afternoon when Umbridge had been examining him, he'd been quite civil.

The Doctor, beginning to calm down again, leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. "Besides, Snape might grow suspicious of me if Umbridge were to turn up missing. He still hasn't forgiven me for landing in his store cupboard and, frankly, would gladly take advantage of any opportunity to have me kicked out of this school. He's been constantly tailing me and trying to use legilimency on me every waking moment, which is _very_ annoying! Makes me almost sympathetic towards Quirrell – _almost_!" He repeated emphatically upon looking down and seeing their affronted faces.

As Hermione, Ron and Harry had chewed on their biscuits and quietly drank their tea as the Doctor spoke, a sense of guilt overwhelmed each of them. Unbounded though their loyalties were to Hagrid, their stomachs were beginning to have second thoughts. Hagrid had never managed, in the five years they had known him, to produce food nearly so edible as the Doctor's stale biscuit tin had.

Hermione nibbled on her biscuit, a new thought gently displacing her guilt. If the Doctor couldn't stop Umbridge and Umbridge refused to teach them anything, then maybe it was time to take matters into their own hands. _But just how would they be able to do it,_ Hermione wondered, _who would teach them instead?_ The Doctor went on without her.

"Now then, Dumbledore is allowing me to teach here at Hogwarts, as a special favor, not to me, but to you three. I have another job to do and I'll do it, but you're going to have to do me a favor in return."

"What is it?" Ron asked dubiously.

"I need you to pretend that I'm not here and, especially, that I'm about as important as the average leaky cauldron."

He pulled out his Sonic Screwdriver and examined it, deep in thought. "Look, I was never meant for this world. This," he held up the metal device, "is my one protection in this world, and it's starting to be affected by the magic of Hogwarts. The only thing I've got left is the TARDIS because she's a living – don't look at me like that Ron! – thing, so she shouldn't have any problems. But also, as I'm sure you've noticed, I haven't exactly been clueless about what is going on in your lives. The only chance you have is to pretend that I don't know anything. Do what you feel is right and you'll manage just fine. Everything will work out..."

"Well, almost everything. Some things, like Umbridge, are so fixed in time and space that they cannot be prevented, even for good. Just a warning now, sometimes really awful things will happen, terrible things that can't be prevented, like - like death..."

The Doctor turned over the screwdriver, seeming to have come to a decision about something. He leaned over the table and with a sad intensity and whispered. "Harry, I'm so sorry. There's nothing I could've done to -"

"Harry!" Hermione shouted. "That's it! Oh, sorry Doctor, I didn't mean to interrupt. What were you going to say?"

The Doctor rubbed his eyelids, with only the slightest hint of sarcasm escaping his lips. "Oh, no, nothing. You go right on ahead, Hermione. It isn't like I had something important to say or anything."

"Oh," in her excitement, Hermione's normally perceptive ears missed the Doctor's subtle hint. The idea which had just popped into her mind was too good to wait. "well, it was only that I realized something. Doctor, you can't do anything about Umbridge, but we can! We need to learn defensive magic, even if Umbridge and the Ministry refuse to teach us. I was just thinking that, well, maybe Harry could teach us instead."

Harry was nonplussed. "You're joking, right? Come on, seriously Hermione? Now I'd really like to hear what the Doctor was about to -"

"You know," said Ron, thinking. "That's actually not such a bad idea..."

"Yeah," Harry said, glad that someone was agreeing with him. "Hermione, it can wait until the Doctor's finished."

"No, I wasn't talking about the Doctor, no offense," the Doctor shrugged as Ron said, smiling. "I was talking about you teaching us defensive magic."

The Doctor had now leaned back in his chair, watching them like he would a quaffle being thrown about in a high-stakes Quidditch match.

Harry laughed. "But I'm not a teacher. You should do it Hermione. You've beaten me in every test -"

"Actually, I haven't." said Hermione coolly. "You had the highest marks for Defense Against the Dark Arts in our third year – the only year we both sat the test and had a teacher who actually knew the subject. But I'm not talking about test results, Harry. Look what you've _done_!"

"How d'you mean?"

'Uh... let's think," said Ron, pulling a face like Goyle concentrating. "first year – you saved the Stone from You-Know-Who."

"But that was luck," said Harry, "that wasn't -"

"Second year," Ron interrupted, "you killed the basilisk and destroyed Riddle."

"Yeah, but if Fawkes hadn't turned up I -"

"Third year," said Ron, louder still, "you fought off about a hundred dementors at once -'

"You know that was a fluke, if the Doctor hadn't -"

"Last year," Ron said, almost shouting now, "you fought off You-Know-Who again -"

Hermione couldn't help but smirk up at Harry, sure that Ron had joined in as well.

Listen to me!" Harry growled. "It sounds great when you say it like that, but all that stuff is luck -"

There was a highly suspicious cough from the Doctor.

"Sorry, you'd be surprised at just how much 'stuff' is just luck. The universe is funny that way." he coughed again, barely concealing his laughter, before he managed to straighten his face. "Anyway, do continue Harry."

Hermione was now grinning, sure that the Doctor was on her side, Harry however, was not. He stood up so suddenly that he knocked over the bowl of murtlap essence, which crashed onto the wooden floor.

"_You don't know what it's like_!" Harry shouted, causing Hermione and Ron to flinch. "You – neither of you – you've never had to face him, have you? You think it's just memorizing a bunch of spells and throwing them at him, like you're in class or something? The whole time you're sure you know there's nothing between you and dying except for your own – your own brain or guts or whatever – like you can think straight when you know you're about a second away from being murdered, or tortured, or watching your friends die – they've never taught us that in their classes, what it's like to deal with things like that – and -"

"Harry," Hermione whispered timidly, "don't you see? This... this is exactly why we need you... We need to know what it's r-really like... facing him... facing V-Voldemort."

It was the name that calmed Harry, who had never before heard Hermione utter it. The room relaxed and Hermione breathed easily again. Harry was now looking down at the ground, only just noticing the broken bowl. His face began to turn red in shame. The Doctor sighed.

"Fixed event." he muttered resignedly, then he added, in an effort to cheer up the whole room, "Hagrid will be coming back before too long."

Harry was still gazing embarrassedly at the remnants of the bowl, but Ron perked up significantly. "What? When?"

"After the first Quidditch match, Gryffindor versus Slytherin. It'll be an interesting game, especially the after-match."

Ron's eyebrow shot up. "Why didn't you tell us this before, when we asked? Why did you lie?"

"Well, technically, since I never really was told when he'd arrive, I didn't lie to you. Also, if you didn't notice, several of the students within hearing range just _happened_ to be the offspring of Death Eaters. Might've been as curious about Hagrid as you were, minus the good intentions."

"Oh, well, there is that." Ron admitted between mouthfuls of Jammie dodgers.

The Doctor was watching Harry again. "Harry, about what I was saying... Terrible things will happen and everyone will shed a few tears, but you'll be happy in the end, just remember that. It's more of a promise than I've ever gotten in any of my life times. You'll say that 'All was well' by the end." Harry, still staring as the last of the murtlap oil dripped from the porcelain shards, nodded forlornly.

The Doctor got up from his chair. "Alright, it's time for you three to head off to bed now. It isn't like classes have stopped just because you're having an epiphany."

As the Doctor showed them to the door, he stopped and dug around in his coat pocket, "Oh, and Hermione, I have these." he said, pulling out two silver sickles.

He handed them to her and looked down at her solemnly. "Return one of them to me and keep the other. You'll need to perform a Protean charm on them, that way, if anything does happen and you find yourselves in 'mortal danger', you can contact me."

Hermione turned the coins over in her hands. "That's NEWT standard. Not many fifth year students could do that, you know."

"Yes Hermione, but as always, you are an exception." The Doctor beamed at her as she, Ron and Harry left the hut.

"And don't forget," the Doctor called out from his still open door. "you still have my assignment due this Thursday! Twelve inches of parchment concerning the proper appeasement of a bowtruckle!"

"How're we supposed to fill twelve inches with that?" Ron grumbled once they were back underneath the invisibility cloak. He'd only written three words so far 'you feed them'.

"I know," Hermione agreed, trying not to trip over Harry's feet. "it's not nearly enough, is it? I've already got twenty inches and there's still more I'd like to add."

"Hermione," Ron straightened up, exposing their ankles; Hermione and Harry both immediately pulled him back down again. "I think you're just as much off your rocker as that Doctor is."

Hermione clutched the two sickles in her hand, hoping that he was wrong. She leaned in, next to Harry's ear. "Just think about teaching us." she whispered quietly, so that Ron couldn't hear. "Please?"

Harry nodded glumly.

Much to Hermione's delight, by the time their first Hogsmeade weekend rolled around in October, Harry had agreed to teach them defensive spells. It was wonderful news, which Hermione felt should also be given to those genuinely interested in actually being taught Defense Against the Dark Arts. Harry reluctantly agreed to let her invite several other people, assuming that she only meant one or two close friends. But thirty people later found the three of them in the Hogshead, trying to persuade everyone to join their new club.

To Hermione's relief, it worked. Everyone there signed the slip of paper announcing that they were to be proud members of the D.A., Dumbledore's Army.

Of course, once Umbridge caught wind of their scheme, she abruptly put an end to it, creating Educational Decree number Twenty-four, disbanding all unapproved clubs. At least, until Hermione mastered the Protean charm, giving every member a galleon that would indicate whenever the next meeting would occur (Ron, who had sincerely thought she was handing out real galleons, was very disappointed to find out this wasn't pocket change).

Hermione, just as the Doctor had asked her, also put a Protean charm on the two sickles he'd given her. Like the galleons, they would grow warm whenever Hermione activated hers. She felt safe, knowing that, for the first time, she could truly reach the Doctor whenever she needed him; if she needed him. She had seen no sign so far of the clockwork man and hoped to keep it that way.

In November, true to the Doctor's word, Hagrid arrived the night after the first Quidditch match of the season (whose after-match was indeed memorable). Reluctantly, Hagrid told them about his attempts, on Dumbledore's orders, to create an alliance with the giants and prevent them from joining You-Know-Who. It hadn't been that successful. But, whatever had kept him from returning to the school before the start of term had been quite brutal. Hagrid's face was filled with bruises and there were several of his teeth that were now lost abroad. Hagrid refused to tell them what had happened to him.

As December hit and the snow covered the school yard, the prefects of each house were asked to help assist with the decoration of the Great Hall. Back at home, with her parents, Hermione had always assisted with the Christmas lights on their single tree, with her father lifting her up so that she could place the Christmas star on the topmost bough. These scenes held a simple magic for Hermione that could never truly be duplicated at Hogwarts. Hogwarts, however, was doing its best to try, and it was disastrous.

There were dozens of trees to be decorated and hundreds upon hundreds of candles to light and place amidst the boughs. Ernie MacMillan, who'd been put in charge of placing the candles, had become distracted sending one of them wick first into an evergreen, which burst into flames. While Ernie was desperately trying to douse the flames with an extinguishing spell, only making them angrier, Hermione had had to save Ron from Peeves who was eagerly trying to strangle him with tinsel and Yuletide spirit.

Hagrid, who was shaking his head as each miniature disaster unfolded, left the Great Hall to find another Christmas tree, to replace the one now smoldering in front of the head table. The Doctor, who was to start teaching Muggle Studies in January, had in the meantime apprenticed himself to Game Keeper, followed Hagrid out to find a new tree. They returned, lugging a particularly large spruce, which was shedding almost as much fresh snow as it did pine leaves. The tree limbs, however, were protesting, being far too big to fit through the double doors leading to the Great Hall. Eventually, Filch and all of the prefect joined in the cause, but to no avail. Finally, Professor Flitwick simply shrunk the tree until it could be positioned before re-inflating it again.

While everyone else was panting, Mr. Filch was wheezing. "Can't see why I'm needing to be lugging 'round trees in the middle of winter when they can do it themselves, with magic, do I?"

Just then, Hermione could almost hear the tiny click of the Doctor's thoughts before he said casually, "Yeah, lucky them. Tried doing a Kwikspell course, but it didn't really work for me."

The effects were instantaneous. Without warning, Filch clapped his knarled hand on the Doctor's back, as though he'd found out they were brothers. Everyone grew suddenly still, even the figure of Umbridge, who'd walked into the Great Hall moments before accompanied by Snape. Umbridge eyed the Doctor warily as though sensing a threat for the first time.

"Yerse, our kind have all the bad luck, don't we? Awful stinking sham that Kwikspell was, wasn't it"

"Umm, yeah," said the Doctor, nonplussed, "total waste of time. Look, I've got to get back to decorating, still loads to do. Nice chatting with you -"

The Doctor politely angled to get away from the caretaker, who then followed him almost everywhere he went, hammering the Doctor with every detail of his life.

"Now you see, I was the eldest Filch of my family, yet mum wanted a wizard like dad, didn't she? Dad tried to beat the magic outta me every day. Taught me the best sort of discipline, dad did. Gave up on me once my younger brothers started blowing things up, though. Had siblings yerself?"

The Doctor, trying to string up some holly from the ladder Filch was holding for him, shrugged noncommittally.

"Nasty lot they were, the Filch brothers... made this lot look tame, I'll tell you. Dad didn't beat them so much so they turned out rotten to the core. Woulda' done better, I think, if only dad had disciplined them properly. They never let me alone either... always stuffing things in my socks and conjuring dungbombs to throw at me. Eventually moved up to knives..."

The Doctor was back on the ground now, and had joined in decorating the suits of armor that lined the Great Hall. "Is that so?"

"'Course, I got the final laugh in the end, with the will and all that... see, nobody thought I was competition for it, so's they let me be and dueled amongst themselves. Agamemnon finally got the inheritance, though it looked for a time like he wasn't going to pull through at St. Mungo's. Turned out to be little more than the shack we grew up in, dad having gambled the rest of it all away."

"Hmm..." the Doctor was now helping Hermione fit the armor with Father Christmas robes and masks. She noticed that he was glancing back and forth between the masks and the suits of armor, as though they reminded him of something.

"That was about thirty years ago now, when dad and the majority of my brothers said goodbye to this world."

"Ah."

"Been working here in this stinking school ever since, haven't I? Dumbledore's the only one who'd hire people like us, though. Good man, even if he's far too soft on these filthy little beasts..."

Hermione, who was tying the last of the Father Christmas masks onto a helmet, watched the Doctor, wondering how he would respond.

"Err, yeah," he muttered, searching for common ground, "good man Dumbledore... nice robes, too."

With Christmas break just one night away, Hermione made her way to the last D.A. meeting of the year with Ron. Ron had been quite fascinated by the concept of muggle skiing, asking her all sorts of questions that she'd never bothered finding the answer to such as: why muggles skied at all. Hermione, though she really didn't like skiing, forced herself to smile widely and respond, "Because it's fun."

Ron shook his head as they entered the Room of Requirement. "You could always come to my place. Mum would love it; she's always talking about having a proper Christmas party with guests. And Harry'll be there too. We could play Quidditch in the back, which has to be more fun than sliding down a hill on sticks yelling 'Geronimo!'"

"It's _fun_." Hermione persisted as they paired up as stunning partners. Ron however, always seemed to know when she was lying to him, and insisted that skiing was a stupid idea, but she couldn't let him win.

"Really," she scowled, blocking Ron's meager attempt to stun her. "it's loads of fun and my parents will be taking me… it'll be so nice to see them again."

That part at least was honest. Ron, who was the only person whom she had ever confided her homesickness to, seemed to sense this and dropped the subject. Of course, Hermione suspected this silence had more to do with being repeatedly knocked backwards than actual chivalry, but she liked imagining otherwise.

The meeting ended and Harry, as was his ritual precaution, took out the Marauder's Map, scanning it for any sign of Filch or Umbridge lurking outside in the corridor. He frowned and showed the map to Ron and Hermione.

"There it is again." Harry said irritably. "Third time this month. Hermione, are you sure you have no idea what it is."

Exasperated, Hermione peered down at the map and looked at a small pair of footprints labeled with a question mark.

"The map is pretty old," she reasoned, "the charm could easily be wearing off by now."

Harry, who put more faith in his father, who'd designed the map, than in any magical laws shook his head. "No, it's never done this before."

They watched for a moment as the unknown footsteps walked right along their hallway, stopped almost directly in front of their door, and then -

CRASH.

A voice in the hall began shouting.

The whole room of D.A. members, who'd each been wishing each other a Happy Christmas, became as silent as falling snow.

"Extendible Ears anyone?" George asked, offering Hermione, Ron, Harry and several other students each some fleshy string.

"Gladly." said Harry and Ron together. Hermione hesitated, but her curiosity overcame her and she took one from the twins as well.

"Welcome Hermione, to a whole new view of the world -" began Fred.

"A world with exciting possibilities -" sniffed George proudly.

"And mischief galore!" exclaimed Fred, wiping an imagined tear from his eye.

Hermione ignored them, holding the Extendible Ear to her own. She almost dropped it at once.

"Doctor!" she breathed, quickly holding the device back up to her ear, then blinked. What she heard sounded completely insane.

"Ha, ha! Thought you could pull a fast one on me, didn't you Father Christmas!" the Doctor shouted at the top of his lungs from outside in the corridor.

"Isn't that Professor Smith?" said Fred. "What's he doing beating up on Father Christmas?"

"Shame," said George, shaking his head. "looks like someone won't be getting any presents this year."

The insanity continued. "Didn't think I'd recognize you for what you were down in the Great Hall? Thought it was a perfect disguise, letting people string masks and robes on you? Thought I wouldn't notice?"

Hermione's mind raced into the past, sprinting towards the day when the Doctor had helped her dress up the suits of armor in the Great Hall for Christmas. She covered her mouth, realizing that she'd been playing dress up with something that had been haunting her for years.

"But I did and even an on-the-blink Sonic Screwdriver noticed you lot. See, you are the _only_ things in this castle filled with odds and ends from 'Medieval, date unknown' that have a specific date of manufacture. And here you are now, waiting to ambush these students to get inside the Room of Requirement,"

The Doctor clucked. "and just before Christmas too. But I'm here to stop you, now, once and for all!"

Now everyone was crowded around the door, Extendible Ears or not. The gentle clanking of armor could be heard. Hermione was halfway through pulling out her Extendible Ear and joining the Doctor in the fight when a new voice silkily invaded the noise, which ceased immediately. "And what, Professor Smith, do you think you're doing here, wrestling a harmless suit of armor at this time of night?"

It was Snape.

There was another crash outside and a scuffle, followed by more shouting from the Doctor. Fred gave a low whistle. "Has a bit of a temper, doesn't he George?"

George raised an eyebrow. "And I think he's swearing too."

"Nasty influence, swearing with all these children around." said Fred, who smiled approvingly.

Hermione pressed the Ear back to hers, listening with all her might, trying to pick up every single inflection of the Doctor's voice. It wasn't hard -

"_Severus!_ You – you – why did you - _Get off me!_" They could hear the rustle of a cloak as Snape apparently released the Doctor, then all was quiet.

"Oh, I see." Snape jeered. "I was supposed to believe that a full grown man attacking a suit of armor dressed as Father Christmas, was acting in a sane manner? How foolish of me."

"Yes," the Doctor snapped, "very foolish. Thanks to you, it's gone now!"

"Yes John, I can see that _quite_ plainly." They could hear Snape straightening up his robes. "Now then, where exactly do you think it went? It can't have apparated or disapparated-"

"Oh, it can, Severus, but not the way you do. It's a clock. Clocks and watches are the only muggle devices that work here in Hogwarts, haven't you noticed? These ones are wind-up, and don't rely directly on batteries, so they are twice as strong here than a regular stopwatch."

Several of the eavesdroppers glanced down at their wristwatches.

"You know, I never noticed that." muttered Collin Creevey, who'd managed to snatch an Extendible Ear. Hermione rolled her eyes up at him.

"Am I the only one who's read _Hogwarts, A History_?" There was a general, reluctant murmur of agreement. She sighed. "During the Victorian era wearing fob watches became popular, even amongst wizards. In the 1920's concern grew that muggles might start powering watches with electricity. The headmaster of the time, Phineas Nigellus, was bullied by the other teachers into creating a loophole in the magical protections around Hogwarts, because the watches insured students arrived to their classes on time. Nigellus only gave in when he realized students would otherwise have an excuse for tardiness, making it harder to punish them. Ironically, the dreaded battery run watches didn't actually appear until over thirty years later."

The Doctor was shouting again. "And, unlike the average wristwatch, these clocks have learned how to rig up a teleport! They must've brought some sort of device to facilitate all this popping in and out business, but I've been unable to track it. I was _lucky_ to find the armored clockwork men at all! And now, here you are and the search begins all over again! It's taken me months -years – to track that thing down and in one foul swoop you've -"

The Doctor stopped then yelled even louder at Snape. "SEVERUS, HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU NOT TO USE LEGILIMENCY ON ME!"

"That was... not what I had anticipated." Snape whispered, a small tremor of pain echoing in his voice.

"Did you honestly think I'd block my mind to you _only_ to protect childhood memories? It's not a human brain and you can't just go marching in there expecting a 'welcome' doormat to greet you! It'll hurt. Even Dumbledore could only stay in there a short while. No human could stand being in there for more than a minute. You'd have to be either so basically human or not human at all to remain there for very long."

"Obviously."

"Though, admittedly," the Doctor chided, "a woman might've lasted longer than you did."

"Yes," they could hear the smirk in Snape's voice now, "there was a blonde one in there. Bit young for someone nine hundred years old, though, wouldn't you say John?"

There was a stony silence. At last, when the Doctor spoke it was with an unnatural lightness, "Oh, trust me, there are plenty of things I could say about your heart, Severus. I know more about you right now than you'll ever know about me. Goodnight."

Snape did not respond as the Doctor went off, whistling a song. Hermione recognized it, but it had been so long that she couldn't remember the name, but the lyrics went something along the lines of 'Doe, a deer, a female deer...'

George summed it up best. "Well, that was weird. Have a nice holiday folks."

"And remember," Fred added seriously. "friends don't let friends attack Father Christmas, alright?"

There was a general murmur of laughter now as everyone slowly made their way out of the Room of Requirement, in their usual two's and three's, wishing each other happy holidays.

Hermione, Ron and Harry watched as the footprints labeled _Severus Snape_ stalked off in the opposite direction of the ones belonging to the question mark. Then the Hallway was left empty.

Hermione and Ron left Harry and Cho Chang behind as they exited the room. On the ground, just outside the door, were a red robe, a Father Christmas mask and a single cog lying on there, reflecting the candlelight. Hermione shuddered.

"So," Ron began, "what was that all about?"

"I think," Hermione sighed, "that the Doctor may have just saved us, again."

"Is he really nine hundred, you think?" Hermione nodded morosely. They stood for a moment, side by side, staring at the single cog. Ron frowned.

"How come it didn't show up on the map?" He asked as they started heading off to the Gryffindor common room. "The Doctor did, even though he was only a question mark."

After a moment, Hermione answered sadly, "The Marauders would never have bothered marking things like the suits of armor on their map. They're too ordinary. Besides, it isn't exactly like people expect them to go around threatening the fabric of our universe, do they?"


	6. Chapter 6

(I do not own the character whose initials are L.C. If you don't know who this fictional character is, go to Wikipedia and type in her name, she'll come up right away, then go to the section marked 'Other Appearances' and read the first few sentences of the third paragraph. If you know the name of the actor who plays the Tenth Doctor, then you'll understand why I included this character).

Sunlight streamed through the small stained glass window in the Doctor's bedroom, awakening him to the first day of the new term. His eyes opened and he sat up, stretched, fumbled distractedly for his bathrobe which he'd hung on the bedpost, and then wrapped it about himself looking around his small room.

It had been on Dumbledore's insistence that, when Hagrid returned to the school, the Doctor would, as Professor Smith, take up residence inside the castle. The room was a mess, but that was the way he liked it. Clothes hung on the back of a wooden chair which also housed several books, some of which also served as bookmarks, each with pages of the Doctor's notes sticking out of them sporadically.

Several books had made it all the way down to the floor and, for some reason or another, were open to various passages and filled with yellow sticky notes. Most of the books were in some form or another connected to his new teaching assignment: Muggle Studies. All of them were filled with large paragraphs of corrections and one even had both open pages graffitied over with the word 'WRONG!'

There were other things besides books. There were the Christmas presents that Hermione had given him as well. He'd been shocked, and rather pleased, to find he'd received presents on Christmas for once. She'd knitted him a scarf and a bag, both of which were blue and emblazoned with the words 'Police Public Call Box.' In her neat handwriting, Hermione had explained in her Christmas card that the bag was also enchanted to be 'bigger on the inside.' She'd also given him his very own SPEW badge, which he'd proudly pinned onto his trench coat.

On the walls, here were a few still photographs of the Doctor with various celebrities or other famous people throughout time. There were even a few moving pictures, though many of the occupants of these photos wore beards and robes (and, in varying degrees, they wore expressions of confusion as well). There was a celestial chart, with corrections, that the Doctor had been jabbed with pins, marking the various places he'd been throughout his life. The Doctor had also managed to find a few gizmos in the TARDIS that would still work properly inside the school. He'd put several of these on his desk and shelf, just so that he could have something of his former life there.

It wasn't home, but it would have to do until June, when the whole charade would be over one way or the other.

The Doctor reached for the warm cup of tea that he knew would be on top of his dresser next to his Sonic Screwdriver. That had been one of the concessions that he'd had to make concerning the use of house elves inside the castle, and in turn, that was one of the few concessions they'd made concerning him _being_ inside the castle.

After waking up to the loud crash of several framed and irreplaceable pictures toppling to the ground, the Doctor had sat bolt upright, Sonic Screwdriver at the ready, to find a pair of green tennis ball sized eyes peering back at him guiltily. He could barely make out the profile, which included what he realized was about twenty sets of knitted hats atop a very small, pointy-eared head. He let the hand holding his Sonic Screwdriver fall back down to the bed.

"Sorry sir!" squeaked the little elf. "Sorry, it's just that, Dobby has never seen pictures that remain still before, sir. Dobby was just trying to get them to move, sir, to see if they was broken, sir."

"_Dobby!_" the Doctor breathed excitedly, remembering the house elf from the books. As further recollection found its way to his brain, however, he added suspiciously, "What are you doing in my bedroom?"

"Cleaning sir!" said the elf brightly, waving a small dust-rag about as evidence. "Cleaning, sir. The other elves refuse to come in here, sir. Only Dobby is willing to clean for a -" The elf stopped.

The Doctor had just stepped out of the bed. "A what?"

"Never mind, sir, never mind. Dobby will clean up this glass sir, don't worry about it, sir!" The elf added emphatically upon seeing the Doctor bending down to help him pick up the broken shards.

The Doctor continued picking up the glass. "Not unless you tell me why the other house elves aren't willing come here."

Dobby hesitated. "Dobby doesn't want to offend Professor Smith, sir, but…."

"But what?" the Doctor asked curiously.

Dobby wrung the tea cozy that he wore for a shirt, looking down at the shards of glass to avoid the Doctor's gaze. "The other elves are afraid of you, sir. They say you're not a wizard, sir, or like the caretaker or even the half-giant, sir." He looked up and, seeing that the Doctor looked only mildly surprised, took courage and added in a whisper, "They knows you're something that doesn't belong here, sir. They knows you don't belong in our world, sir."

The Doctor had shrugged. "Oh, well, I suppose it could be worse."

The elf looked down, its overlong nose nearly touching the ground. "Five have been in here already, sir. They've sworn never to come back."

More to distract himself from the idea that five small individuals had entered his bedroom without his knowledge and had then promptly snubbed him, the Doctor asked, "What do you think, Dobby?"

The elf brightened up considerably. "Dobby doesn't mind, sir. Dobby thinks that so long as Professor Dumbledore trusts you, then you are good, sir. Dobby trusts Dumbledore, sir!" he added passionately.

The Doctor smiled and, in the most polite roundabout way that he could think of, had told the elf that his services would hardly be needed (especially at one o'clock in the morning) owing to something or other that sounded more impressive than it was. When Dobby began pestering him, desperate to be of some service, the Doctor had relented slightly. "Just tea in the morning and laundry ought to do it, thanks!"

The elf had been true to his word and, just as he had every morning since, the Doctor drank his cup of tea before walking to the stain glass window, opening it and staring out onto the grounds below.

The fresh layer of January snow reflected the sunlight, illuminating the Hogwarts grounds so beautifully that no shadow could bear ruining such a perfect scene, instead feasting upon the school or wherever else the soles of Professor Umbridge's pink shoes had touched down. Beyond the snow covered yard and even beyond the ever encroaching darkness of the forbidden forest, hidden amongst the foliage just beyond the sight of human eyes was the TARDIS.

It had been one of the conditions of his contract with Dumbledore that the TARDIS remain off of the school premises, so that Snape could properly keep tabs on him inside the castle.

The Doctor leaned against the window frame and sighed. "Hello old girl."

After a few minutes, the Doctor morosely closed the window on his beloved TARDIS and began the day.

Breakfast was mundane, as usual. The staff table buzzed blearily with morning small talk, discussing lesson plans and other smaller matters. He got up from the table before the rest of his colleagues and headed towards the first new thing he'd experienced here at Hogwarts in a while, his new classroom.

He climbed the moving staircases briskly, two steps at a time, jumping over the fake step automatically. He stopped at the top of the fifth floor and began heading down the east wing, according to the directions Dumbledore had given him.

Room 513 was disappointingly normal, well, at least normal for Hogwarts. There were the usual rows of desks, the chalkboard, a low ceiling vaulted with wood, nothing out of the ordinary, except that it was perhaps just a bit smaller than most of the other classrooms.

Out of habit, the Doctor pulled out his Sonic Screwdriver and began pointing it in various directions, attempting to check the room and its furnishings for dates of manufacture, not that the device had actually been working much these days. Ever since his last encounter with the clockwork man, all it had done was blink once or twice before refusing to turn back on. The Doctor knew it was because of all the magic inside Hogwarts and its grounds, so he was quite taken aback when a small light appeared at the tip of his screwdriver and the readings started coming in:

'Medieval, date unknown.' 'Medieval, date unknown.' 'Medieval, date unknown….'

"What? Wait, no! No, no, no no, no!" the Doctor hit the Screwdriver, "Work for me, come on!" but the battery had run low and was now recharging. The Doctor's eye's darted around the small room, trying to find some explanation for the school's sudden burst of technological leniency. He began pulling open the drawers of the teacher's desk, rummaging through the various muggle tools, such as muggle screwdrivers and wrenches, contained inside, looking for clues. His first Fourth year student arrived to discover the Doctor inspecting a particularly malevolent looking mallet.

"Professor Smith, sir," the large girl with greasy red hair began, eyeing the mallet suspiciously, "What're you doing with that?"

"Hmm?" The Doctor looked up from it and smiled at her, dropping the tool of mass destruction quickly inside a random drawer. "Oh, right, class should be starting soon. I was just looking through some of the things Professor Burbage left behind, trying to find the Attendance roster. By the way, any idea why Professor Burbage would have a mallet in here?"

The girl shrugged, chewing loudly on her Drooble's Best Blowing Gum. "She was always a bit weird, wasn't she though?" Almost to emphasize her point, she blew a large bubble, which popped loudly.

The Doctor's brow crinkled as a nagging suspicion tugged at his mind. Something the other teachers had regularly gripped about in the staffroom, the bane of their existence. "You wouldn't by any chance be a Miss Lauren Cooper, would you?"

"Yeah," she answered back in her grating voice, "why?"

He eyed her warily. "You're reputation proceeds you."

The girl, who's entirely disruptive attitude had become the stuff of legend along the staff table, folded her arms smugly. "Isn't it though?"

Other students were starting to file in now. "Whatever you say – just, just sit at the back of the classroom…."

She popped another bubble in annoyance, though she did begin heading towards the back of the classroom, albeit at a stomp.

"A little bit further, further, there you go!" She was at the very back of the classroom now. The rest of the class took their seats, the first few getting the ones furthest from Lauren Cooper.

"Alright class," the Doctor beamed, "Welcome to Muggle Studies. Now, then, I haven't got the Attendance roster yet, but it's time to begin. Can anyone give me a working definition for what a witch or wizard is?"

Several students raised their hands nervously.

"Yes, you with the pigtails and the Ravenclaw necktie. What's your name."

"Bethany Parker, sir. A witch or wizard is any person who can perform feats of magic."

"Good. Five points to Ravenclaw. Sounded like you'd memorized it from a dictionary." The Doctor wrote the word 'magical' and Bethany's definition on the chalkboard. Across from it he put the word 'muggle.' "What about a muggle? Anyone willing to try to explain to me what a muggle is?"

The Doctor picked another student, a boy with sandy hair and an eager expression.

"It's Collin, sir. Collin Creevey."

The Doctor's smile faltered as a wave of sadness and guilt swept over him. "Nice to meet you Collin." he said quietly, desperately trying not to remember what he knew would happen to the eager sandy-haired boy who was, right now, happily sitting in his classroom and jotting down a few notes.

Collin, however, registered none of the Doctor's strugglings. "Well, a muggle is a person who can't use magic and doesn't have any relatives who can either."

"You've just earned Gryffindor house five points, Collin." the Doctor wrote Collin's definition down underneath the word 'muggle' before turning back to the class, looking at everyone but Collin Creevey. "Now, can anyone tell me what is wrong with these two definitions?"

The class sat in stunned silence.

"Anyone? Annyyonne? Twenty, no, thirty points to the student who can tell me the answer."

No one raised their hand.

The Doctor smiled, turning back to the chalkboard crossing out every single word except one in each of the categories. The last remaining words under both 'magical' and 'muggle' were the same.

"How about now?" the Doctor asked, pointing to the single word with a piece of chalk.

Slowly, Bethany from Ravenclaw raised her hand. The Doctor pointed at her.

"It's 'person.' We're all people, no matter what our abilities are." the Doctor gave Bethany an encouraging smile.

"Thirty points to Ravenclaw – you lot thought I was joking about that, didn't you?" the Doctor accused the room at large, which had exploded into moans. "You're absolutely right, Miss Parker. The only difference between you and a muggle is that they have to pretend to pull a rabbit out of their hats. Takes just as much work and skill to be in either group, so from now on, I don't want you to think of this as a 'Muggle Studies' class, but a Human studies one."

The class remained silent, silent enough for the small knock on the classroom door to be heard.

"Must be the Attendance roster." the Doctor leaned against the desk and looked towards the door. "Enter."

A girl with waist-length dirty blond hair and protuberant eyes opened the door, looking over every inch of the classroom as though she'd entered a fairy realm. She stepped in and shut the door behind her, finally turning her wandering attentions to the Doctor.

"Hello," she said dreamily, holding out a clip board which housed the Attendance roster. "Professor McGonagall said that you would be needing this for your class today."

"Thanks, Luna." The Doctor took the clipboard from her and began calling out the various names, placing a checkmark whenever somebody raised their hand.

Halfway through the list, the Doctor stopped, realizing that Luna hadn't left yet. She was standing exactly where he'd left her, staring with unnerving interest up into space, her head tilted to one side. "Don't you have a class to go to?"

Luna didn't take her gaze from off the ceiling as she answered, "Oh no, this is my free period. I've never actually been in this classroom before. It's smaller than some of the other rooms, but I think that makes it feel quite cozy, don't you?"

"Ah, yes," said the Doctor absently, "where was I? Is a Miss –"

"Did you intend to put that there?" Luna asked suddenly.

"What?"

Luna pointed at the ceiling. "Up there, in the rafters. There's a big metal thing attached to a wooden beam, didn't you know?"

The Doctor slowly tilted his head, mimicking Luna, staring up at the ceiling as well. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open. "What."

Luna's brows knit together as she now stared at the Doctor. "Can't you see it? It's about the size of a young Crumple-horned Snorkack." As far as the Doctor could see, this roughly equated to the size of the average shoe box.

He straightened up suddenly. "Fifty points to whoever has a copy, the newest edition available, of _Hogwarts, a History_, and can find any references to this Muggle Studies classroom right now!"

The backpacks of several Ravenclaw students unzipped as they began riffling through their books. Seconds later, Bethany Parker produced her brand new copy of _Hogwarts, a History_, a look of triumph lighting her face. She began flipping through the pages as she said, "Mum gave it to me this Christmas because my little brother accidently broke a bottle of ink over my last one!"

"Fifty points to Ravenclaw! Send your ol' mum a thank you card from me!"

Bethany stopped, her finger pointing down profoundly at a passage. "Here it is! It says: It was ironically, the late Victorian headmaster Phineas Nigellus, who designated room number 513, which is located on the fifth floor in the east wing of the school, as the Muggle Studies classroom. Either in light of the continuing technological growth of muggles or because his fellow teachers had taken up to sending him Howlers every morning (between the years 1910 and 1915), Nigellus magically sectioned off room 513 from any of the school's magical influences. Though the shield has been left in place, very few Professors of this field have taken advantage of it. This is owing, in part, to a lack of experience with actual muggle devices, some of which can, when poked with a metal fork, produce the effect of having been struck by lightning or can even blow up, killing the witch or wizard instantly."

The Doctor took out his Sonic Screwdriver, who's battery was well on its way to being charged, then looked up at the metal box on the ceiling.

"Brilliant." He whispered. "Absolutely brilliant. For something with no brain of its own - well, I suppose necessity is the mother of invention, after all…." He jumped up onto the desk just underneath the metal box, much to the alarm of its current occupant. "Sorry, but I'll be needing you to stay there, as a counterbalance, or my weight is going to send this desk toppling down. I'd rather not have to explain to Madame Pomfrey how I broke all of my bones, thanks."

The box had been screwed onto the post, just where most people wouldn't have thought to look for it. The Doctor took out his Sonic Screwdriver and looked again at the charge, which was barely past sixty percent. He examined the box again, running his fingers along its side and found an odd protrusion on the otherwise smooth surface. "Better not risk that yet. Looks like there's some sort of security device that'll detect any technical interference. Sixty percent is still too unstable. Might send off a warning."

The Doctor sighed to himself. "I can't believe I'm saying this…." He looked down and sized up several of his students, calculating which of them was capable of understanding what he wanted. His eyes reluctantly fell on Collin Creevey.

"Collin, you're a muggle-born, yes?" Collin looked confused, but nodded. "Go into the top drawer of Professor Burbage's desk and grab me a medium-sized human screwdriver."

Collin went into the drawer, grabbed a screwdriver and handed it up to the Doctor, who looked at the simple muggle instrument uncertainly. "It's been years since I've used one of these."

He looked down at Collin again, almost helplessly, and asked, "Which way am I supposed to turn this thing?"

"Right." Collin replied automatically and then frowned, suddenly deep in thought.

There was the uncomfortable grinding sound of metal being twisted into metal. "Collin!"

"Or was that left?" Collin asked himself.

"Apparently left!" shouted the Doctor.

The table underneath the Doctor creaked as he hurriedly began unscrewing the box from the post. The table creaked again. And a third time.

Crash.

Creak.

Thud.

The desk had collapsed, but not before the Doctor had grabbed onto the wooden post in the rafters, his hands clamped firmly around the edges of the metal box, his legs swinging. Unfortunately, the rafters had never been meant to hold the weight of a dangling Time Lord and quickly gave way.

Once the dust had cleared and the coughing ceased, several of the students, including Luna, went into the dust cloud to find their teacher. Much to their surprise, however, the Doctor was already standing up in the wreckage with only a few minor cuts and bruises visible on his hands and face. He was looking up at the ceiling.

"I suppose that's one way to get the job done," the Doctor coughed in the still rising dust, "though, by the looks of it, you'll probably have to call in a repair man." he coughed again, then bent down amongst the residual beams and splinters of wood, picking up the metal box and turning it over in his hands. It was still partially attached to a section of the wooden post. The Doctor stopped spinning the device, instead holding it up to his ear, listening.

Luna, who was the closest to the Doctor, frowned. "What's that funny little beeping noise, professor?"

The Doctor lowered the box and groaned, scanning the edges of the room. On one side of the metal box, a single small red light was flashing on and off. He quickly tucked the box underneath his arm and ran to Professor Burbage's desk, threw the box haphazardly on top of it and began pulling open drawers like a madman. "We've got company!"

"Come on, where is it!" he shouted, throwing various tools from the drawers in his desperate search. "It can't be that hard to find!"

"What do you think he meant by 'company?'" asked one worried student.

"I think," Luna answered, her eyes wider than usual as she pointed towards the very back of the room, "I think he meant them."

There was a collective gasp as the students turned in the direction Luna was pointing and saw over ten suits of armor, which had appeared from nowhere, lined up on the wall. Each had its sword or lance pointing in the students' general direction. The Doctor was still frantically rummaging through the desk.

"Ha, ha!" he yelled, holding up the malevolent mallet that he'd been examining before class. "I don't think Professor Burbage had this in mind when she filed it away, but it should do the trick!"

He brought it down with all of his force upon the box, making an earth shattering clanging noise. The metal top was only part way dented. The suits of armor advanced forward. The students backed away in terror, all except Luna and Collin, both of whom now had their wands at the ready.

"Remember," Collin whispered to Luna, though he was in fact only speaking to himself, "remember what we learned in the D. A., from Harry."

There was another clang as the Doctor tried yet again to destroy the box. The students were backed up all the way to Professor Burbage's desk now and the suits of armor weren't far behind them.

"One," Collin began nervously, "two, three…."

"_REDUCTO_!" Collin and Luna shouted together.

Collin managed to destroy a whole arm whereas Luna completely disintegrated a suit of armor. The one that had met Collin's wrath now had cogs and springs leaking from its arms, clattering onto the stone floor. An angry ticking sound came from the suit of armor and with its only remaining arm, it began aiming its javelin at Collin.

"_REDUCTO_!" Luna shouted, destroying Collin's would be attacker.

"Thanks," Collin panted, "I thought I was -"

There was one final clang as the Doctor at last broke through the metal casing, smashing up the device. All at once, the suits of armor reached for their wrists, pressing a button and vanishing into midair.

"Well," the whole class turned to the Doctor, who was breathing heavily and swinging the mallet theatrically, "never truly a dull day at Hogwarts, eh?" He looked around at them, each covered with dust and wood chippings. "What were we supposed to be learning today?"

"What were those –those things?" a girl squeaked in panic. "Will they be coming back?"

"Oh, no. No, I don't imagine they'll be coming back here." The Doctor said, dropping the mallet into an open drawer which he then shut with his foot. He placed his hands on the desk and stared down at the broken box. "No, they only wanted to protect this. It's some sort of teleportation device – well, not exactly a teleportation device, just an aid to the one that's on their wrists. A kinetic entity displacer. It helps them to lock onto certain locations. Somehow, they must have sensed that, since it's operated by a battery, the only place that they could keep this inside the castle was here in this room."

"Where are they now?" a boy asked, his eyes darting nervously about the room, expecting the armor to come back any minute.

"Oh, probably somewhere out in the Forbidden Forest or something. They must have had a second one, a backup, just in case this one was found. No point staying in here though if they're going to end up unexpectedly in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, so they took off."

The Doctor looked back up at his class, none of whom had understood a single word of what he'd been saying. He cleared his throat and straightened up his tie. "Would any of you believe me if I said Peeves was behind this?"

The Doctor arrived in room 513 the next morning to find that the first student in class wasn't one of his students at all. Luna Lovegood smiled at him serenely from atop January's edition of _The Quibbler_ as he entered the room, her wand poking out visibly from behind her radish-bedecked ears.

"Hello." Her large eyes were fixed unnervingly upon the Doctor. "Would you mind if I visited your class today, only, I think it's likely to be more interesting than my morning break usually is."

Seeing as she'd already made herself comfortable, and unable to come up with any reason why she couldn't, the Doctor added her name to the very bottom of the Attendance roster. "Welcome aboard Miss Lovegood."

Luna smiled contentedly before turning her unnerving gaze back to the magazine.

The rest of the Doctor's official students arrived in small clusters, each and every one of them whispering together about the _Daily Prophet_'s morning headline: Mass Breakout From Azkaban Prison. The Doctor let them continue on for a moment before starting to mark attendance.

Just before he'd reached 'Whiling, Bathilda,' the classroom door creaked open and Collin Creevey poked his head in apologetically.

"Sorry Professor Smith, sir, lost track of the time. My little brother and some friends and I were all discussing the breakout, trying to figure out how they could've done it – sir?" Collin stopped abruptly upon seeing the look on his professor's face.

"A wizard is never late, Collin Creevey." said the Doctor very seriously. "He arrives precisely when he means to."

Collin sighed in relief. "Really? Only, that's not what my other professors say -"

The Doctor put a check mark next to Collins name before looking back up and answering cheerfully. "No, but I've been wanting to say that all year – just take a seat, we'll be starting in a moment."

He gestured towards the only seats still available in the classroom, all of which formed a barrier between the world and Lauren Cooper. Collin groaned.

"Anyway, it isn't as though you're the only one who's running late today." The Doctor took a small folded pink note from out of his pocket and held it up for the class to see. "It seems that, owing to the disturbances and damages we received yesterday -" the Doctor cleared his throat meaningfully, "from Peeves, the High Inquisitor Professor Umbridge has expressed a wish to visit our class today."

There was a general uproar as the students began muttering complaints or whispering to each other in flustered tones. The Doctor held up his hand and the class fell silent.

"She says it's just a routine check, to make sure nothing dangerous is happening." He pocketed the pink note and picked up a thin teal book from his desk. "And that is why, today, we will be studying one of the ultimate forms of muggle magic: literature."

There was an authoritative knock on the door. Without turning from his class, the Doctor invited their 'guest' to come in. Umbridge, who was wearing her fluffy pink cardigan, walked in and greeted Professor Smith, scanning the room quickly before reluctantly taking up a seat next to Lauren Cooper. The Doctor looked down at the teal book lovingly.

"We'll start out with something simple from John Keats' book of poetry_ Endymion_, first edition. I was actually the first one to buy his book, had Keats sign it for me and everything. I went back and had his love Fanny Brawne sign it as well after watching _Bright Star_, which is really quite good, by the way." he looked up at the ceiling and sighed. "Ah, and there was the butterfly scene…. I nearly cried, it was so beautiful -"

"Anyway," the Doctor came back to earth and began gently thumbing through the gilt-edged pages of the teal book, "while you lot have had moving portraits and other such things for hundreds of years, muggles could only capture the beauty of a single moment, with all the rustling about of the leaves and the movements of the stars through words alone."

From the back of the classroom, came the all too predictable 'hem, hem,' of Dolores Umbridge. Lauren Cooper, who was sitting right next to Umbridge, glared at the High Inquisitor. The Doctor, however, ignored Umbridge and continued on.

"So, to paraphrase Keats, let us leap headlong into the sea, and thereby become better acquainted with humanity than if we had stayed upon witchcraft and wizardry alone." he began reading: '_A thing of beauty is a joy forever: Its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness_ –'"

"Hem, hem." once more, the Doctor ignored Umbridge.

"'_but still will keep bower _quiet_ for us_ –'"

"Hem, hem."

"Sir?" Lauren Cooper was now raising her hand.

"'_and a sleep full of sweet dreams, and_ –'"

"Hem, hem."

"Sir?"

The Doctor stopped reading and looked up at the ceiling as the chorus of irritation continued. If it was a choice between answering any question of Lauren Cooper's or acknowledging Umbridge's interruptions, the Doctor knew where he stood. He chose the lesser of two evils, "Yes, Lauren?"

"Does she have to sit right next to me, sir?" asked Lauren, pointing towards Umbridge. "Only, she's being annoying, sir."

The Doctor looked from Lauren to Umbridge. "Yes, I think she does."

"But -" Lauren began to protest.

"Lauren, there aren't any other seats available." Lauren slumped back into her chair, glaring in Umbridge's direction as the Doctor went back to the teal book. "_and health, and quiet _-"

"Sir?" Lauren had raised her hand again.

"What is it now?"

"What's an 'uneducated nitwit incapable of completing a single thought or remaining within the bounds of Ministry approved materials,' mean sir?" The Doctor's eyes immediately shot towards Professor Umbridge, who had started guiltily. "Only, that's what she wrote on her clipboard about you, sir."

"I think," the Doctor said slowly, eyeing Umbridge, "it means that I'm going to have to ignore what was just said -"

"Hem, hem."

"- and continue reading the poem." the Doctor declared, hoping to forestall what he knew was coming next. "'_Therefore_ -'"

"That's not exactly what I wrote, silly girl." Umbridge lied, her honey sweet tones betrayed by the cold look she gave both Lauren and the Doctor.

"But while we are still discussing the matter," Umbridge added, much to the Doctor's annoyance, "I do believe that this is not Ministry approved material, just as Miss Cooper pointed out, amidst all those other words I am sure she added for embellishment's sake."

The Doctor was silent. "It is only that, what exactly do books and poems have to do with muggles at all?"

"Everything." he answered. "Tell me, Dolores, have you ever met a wizard poet or playwright?"

"Umm…." Umbridge began.

"That would be a no." the Doctor concluded. "Yes, there are some, but they're quite a rare bird and often are neither very good nor very influential. Literature, the arts and technology are the special branches of magic that muggles have excelled so far in because, in a world where they cannot simply wave a wand to solve their problems, they've developed and honed one of the greatest forces of magic known to humankind: the imagination."

"That's not Ministry approved!" Umbridge protested.

The Doctor shut the book and walked to the back of the classroom, sitting on the other side of Lauren Cooper, and staring up towards the classroom's now vacated front. The class was silent. Umbridge leaned over her desk, looking beyond Lauren and to the Doctor.

"What are you doing?" Umbridge asked, clearly taken aback.

"Oh," said the Doctor, looking over at Umbridge as though surprised to see her still there, "haven't you guessed already? I thought that, since you clearly know so much more than an 'uneducated nitwit incapable of completing a single thought,' you might wish to take your rightful place at the head of the classroom."

Umbridge hesitated as the Doctor gestured her towards the front. "Well, I…."

"'Well' what?" the Doctor asked in feigned confusion. "I really do want to hear what you have to teach us about muggles, Professor Umbridge."

When she said nothing more than 'well' and 'but', the Doctor added, "We're all ears, I assure you."

Finally, Umbridge recovered and, smiling very sweetly said, "But I'm not qualified to teach this subject; I know nothing of muggles or Muggles Studies. How can you expect me to teach a class that I've never taken?"

"Then I suggest," said the Doctor, getting up from his chair, "that you, like every one of my other students, study for my class before speaking up in it again." The Doctor walked up to the front of the room again and opened his book of poetry, immediately picking up from where he'd left off.

Umbridge's cheeks filled with angry red splotches as she scratched a few sentences onto her clipboard, her quill threatening to break under the strain. With one final jab of her quill, Umbridge promptly left the classroom, not even bothering to wish her colleague a good day.

When the door had been slammed firmly shut behind the High Inquisitor, the Doctor's voice trailed off and he shut the book.

"I thought she'd never leave." He stepped behind the desk and bent down, lugging out from underneath it an odd metal cylinder. Grunting, he lifted the strange object up and slammed it onto the desk for all to see, leaning his arm against it. "Alright class, who wants to learn the function of a muggle motor?"

To the Doctor's surprise, he was not put on probation, but, by the time he'd passed the Great Hall for lunch, there was a new Educational Decree posted on the wall:

- BY ORDER OF -

The High Inquisitor of Hogwarts

Teachers are hereby banned from giving students any information

that is not _strictly_ related to the subjects they are paid to teach

(using _Ministry Approved_ materials _only_).

_The above is in accordance with_

_Educational Decree Number Twenty-six._

As the snow around Hogwarts melted and the April showers began, the Doctor had developed a particular fondness for his Fourth year Muggle Studies class. The students, considering their slight disadvantage of being wizards and their absolute disadvantage of being human, were doing quite well in his opinion. They were beginning to prove themselves to be capable of understanding basic technology, though some of them still had difficulty distinguishing a button from a lever.

Even Luna was doing well in her own way. She showed no interest whatsoever in engines or electrical wires, but had instead picked up a fondness of muggle poetry and art. While the other students crowded around Professor Burbage's desk for the Doctor's lectures on voltage, Luna sat quietly, reading Shakespeare or Donne, occasionally referencing the small picture dictionary which the Doctor had given her for the muggle terms she encountered. When she was tired of reading, Luna would take out a sketch book and begin to draw small works of art from _The Most Famous and Prized Works of the Planet Earth, _253rd edition. Her sketchbook had become quite full.

The only person that caused the Doctor any anxiety at all was Collin Creevey. Collin had, in a matter of a few weeks, gone from an average performance in the class (even with his muggle heritage) to being at the very top of it. He was proving himself to be quite brilliant with everything the Doctor presented to them. He'd even thought up new and interesting ways to meld science and magic together (some of which, the Doctor had to concede, might even have worked). And that, to the Doctor, was a problem. Collin was brilliant, but Collin was going to die at the end of book seven.

Like so many other events in the books, it was a fixed one. There was nothing that the Doctor could do to change it. So he watched Collin steam-roll ahead of the class, smiling and nodding whenever Collin needed encouragement, telling him to write everything down, knowing that Collin's eager heart, and the hearts of several others for that matter, had only so many more pages left to beat before they would remain silent.

When he wasn't busy teaching or preparing for lessons, the Doctor continued to guard the Room of Requirement. Personally, he rather doubted that the clockwork men had the capability to try another assault on the room and its occupants, but he would be there anyway, just in case.

That just in case came in a form other than the clockwork men the week before Easter holiday when, on his way to patrolling the corridor, he heard the sound of voices off in the distance.

"Marrietta Egdcombe said they would be meeting just up this corridor," drawled a familiar voice, "said it was someplace called the 'Room of Requirement,' whatever that is."

The Doctor quickly ducked into an abandoned classroom. He crouched down and, through the small slit he'd left between the door and its frame, saw Dolores Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad pass by. Malfoy, who was leading the group, turned to face his comrades greedily.

"From the sound of it, a 'Room of Requirement' could be pretty useful. I wonder what it does…."

After they had passed, the Doctor hissed into the darkness of the abandoned classroom, "Dobby? Dobby!"

Crack.

The house elf materialized, hats and all, within inches of the Doctors face. He jumped back.

"Sorry sir!" the elf squeaked, somehow bowing his head without losing a single hat in the process. "What is it you wants Dobby to do, sir?"

"Go to the Room of Requirement now! Tell Harry that trouble's coming and coming fast in the form of Dolores Umbridge."

Dobby's large eyes became even bigger. "Dobby will go right away, sir! Thank you, sir!"

There was another crack as the house elf vanished. The Doctor waited, then, less than a minute later, he could hear a scuffle outside, the sound of someone falling down and,

"Trip Jinx, Potter!" the Doctor heard Malfoy gloat in the corridor, only feet away from the door. "Hey, Professor – PROFESSOR! I've got one!"

The Doctor could hear the familiar tapping of Umbridge's shoes against the stone floor.

"It's him!" cried Umbridge jubilantly. "Excellent, Draco, excellent, oh, very good – fifty points to Slytherin! I'll take him from here…. Stand up, Potter!"

The Doctor remembered the next bit just seconds before Umbridge said it. "You hop along and see if you can round up anymore of them, Draco," she said. "Tell the others to look in the library – anybody out of breath – check the classrooms and the bathrooms as well, Miss Parkinson can do the girls' ones – off you go – and you" she added in her softest, most dangerous voice. "You can come with me to the headmaster's office, Potter."

Seconds later, Crabbe opened the door to the classroom and stepped inside. It was empty. Just as Crabbe was about to leave, he felt a faint breeze brush up against the back of his neck. He turned, walking over to the window, which was slightly ajar, and closed it, locking it before leaving the room.

The Doctor, who was very sure that a fall from the small ledge he now stood on would spell instant death, breathed a sigh of relief when no head appeared out of the classroom's window. He'd have to stay there, on the outside wall, for at least five more minutes, to make sure that the Inquisitorial Squad had left for good before going back into the classroom.

He closed his eyes, but nearly lost his balance when a voice to his left said, "See, George, we weren't the only ones to think of this."

A hand stretched out, quickly steadying the Doctor. His gaze followed the arm all the way to its owner and found Fred and George, both of whom were in the same predicament as he was. They grinned at him.

"Rather a nasty fall," said Fred conversationally. "Makes me wish Umbridge hadn't taken our brooms away last term."

"Nah," the Doctor breathed, "broomsticks don't really work for me. Apparently, you _do_ have to be magical to fly one."

"How d'you know?" Fred asked.

"Tried one the first week I was here."

They raised their eyebrows and nodded to each other.

"I'm sure you did your best." George said consolingly.

Fred looked at the window which he and his brother had stepped out of. "What do you think's happening in there, with Umbridge?"

"Oh, don't worry," the Doctor said, "Umbridge is just heading up with Harry to visit Dumbledore and Cornelius Fudge. She'll have a list with all the D.A. member's names on it, so you can't run." The twins stared at him incredulously.

"We're not supposed to worry about _that_?" they chorused.

"Well, Dumbledore is going to offer himself up, creating a cover story for you lot and then he'll be sentenced to Azkaban, but will go on the run instead. So you lot get off, but Umbridge will be headmistress of this school by tomorrow morning." The Doctor summed up.

Fred looked down at the hundreds of feet between himself and the ground. "I'd rather have been expelled,"

The Doctor shrugged. "Yeah, well, she'll only last a few months anyways…. Might need to have an official celebration, what with having a new headmistress."

They stared at him, each face lost in thought.

"Fireworks might be nice." the Doctor suggested helpfully.

They grinned evilly.

"You know, maybe we should throw a little welcome party…. Do you think we've produced enough of them, George?"

"Oh yes, fireworks are the best way to celebrate the beginning of a new age," said George.

"Hopefully the shortest one Hogwarts has ever seen." his twin finished.

The Doctor looked back at the closed window. "Think it's safe to go in?"

"Should be." said Fred. The Doctor tried to push on the window.

"Locked." he muttered.

"How did we do on our last Muggle Studies paper?" George asked, pulling out his wand, wordlessly offering a trade of services.

The Doctor pulled out his Sonic Screwdriver. "Both of you got C's. Firstly, because the work you put into them was really shoddy and secondly, because I suspect you both copied off of each other." The Doctor looked at the device critically. "I hope this works…."

"We would never!" Fred gasped.

"I'm insulted!" cried George.

The Doctor pointed his Screwdriver at the window, its blue light blinked faintly. "Oh, please! I know you've been skimping on your homework to develop that joke shop of yours."

"We must look to the future," said Fred.

"Wherever we can find one." added George.

George waved his wand meaningfully again. "Our dear old mum would be so broken hearted if she found out we'd gotten C's on a paper. Maybe, if we were to help you with that window, you might not consider upping those grades a bit?"

"You've never had a mother like ours." said Fred. "You don't understand, she'll kill us!"

"Yeah, I suppose she will." There was a grinding noise as the window unlocked and the wind pushed each pane inwards. The twins whistled, staring from the Doctor to the Sonic Screwdriver in awe. "Sorry, boys, but you're going to have to do a lot better than that if you want anything from me."

Fred gaped. "Isn't that muggle?"

"How'd you do it?" George wondered, still staring at the device in admiration.

The Doctor looked from them back down to his Sonic Screwdriver. "How about a 'B' on those papers and we never mention this incident again?"

"I dunno," George began. "a muggle wand is an awfully useful commodity. Imagine what people would do if they knew you had one."

"I'm sure Umbridge would be very interested, wouldn't she, George? Sorry, Professor, but you're going to have to do a lot better than that if you want silence from us."

The Doctor grinned back at them. "'A –' is my final offer, take it or leave it."

The twins pretended to think the matter over.

"Fair enough," they said in unison.

The Doctor sidled back up to the window and swung in, helping Fred and George in turn. "Frankly, I think your mum would be more likely to kill _me_ for not having gotten you in here sooner."

"I'm glad you've seen reason." said George.

"No, I've just heard of your mother." The Doctor said, an image of the fiery-haired woman killing Voldemort's most loyal servant on his mind.

Fred and George, did in fact, put on a celebration for Umbridge the very next day. The show was spectacular, but unfortunately for Umbridge, she was so busy trying to corral the fireworks that she didn't truly have any time to appreciate them.

The Doctor, who was now hiding under Professor Burbage's desk, listening to the screams of his class, was beginning to regret having suggested the use of fireworks to the twins. They would have thought of it anyways, but at least they would also have been entirely to blame for the large pyrotechnic dragon and its offspring now igniting his classroom. The dozen or so baby dragons had been entirely his fault, though. Apparently, a Sonic Screwdriver, like a wand, only worked to make the fireworks more exciting.

For once in his life, the Doctor was grateful when Umbridge arrived, wand in hand. Her hair was completely out of place, and a few strands had begun to smolder. Her mouth fell open as she watched the dragon colony fly about the room. "What did you _do_?"

"Never mind that!" the Doctor screamed. "Just get rid of them!"

It took some work, but Umbridge did eventually manage to get the dragon family to vacate the Muggle Studies classroom. Slowly, the Doctor and his class began to creep from the cover of their desks. One or two of the desks had been completely incinerated, the rest were smoldering in varying degrees.

"It was like being in one of Hagrid's classes again." a boy whimpered.

"More like having a bad run in with Gandalf's fireworks display." muttered the Doctor. As he gazed at the desolation the dragons had left behind them, Umbridge peered down at his feet.

She frowned, her hair was even more charred than it had been before. "What are you wearing?"

The Doctor looked down too, and grinned. "Oh, these are my Heelys."

"Your what?"

"Heelys, they're a type of muggle shoe with wheels on the heels." He proudly demonstrated them for her, gliding around Professor Burbage's desk on the black Converse- style trainers. "Better than walking any old day. And they look just like my other ones, too!"

Umbridge puffed herself up. "As headmistress of this school, I order you to take them off this instant!"

"Why?"

Umbridge gave them a dirty look. "They're completely unprofessional! You are a Hogwarts teacher, and as such, you serve as a reflection upon me! I never want to see them in this school again."

"But -"

"Dumbledore may have allowed this - this foolishness, but I will not stand for it." she pointed her wand at him. "Off - Now!"

"Alright, alright, no need to point that at me." the Doctor began pulling them off.

"On the desk." he reluctantly did as she'd told him to. She pointed her wand at them and –

The trainers were transformed into a pair of black rabbits. She hadn't done a very good job, though, because the rabbits had retained many of their previous qualities. The Doctor quickly separated the right and left shoe, the right of which was trying to nibble the left one's laces, which had looped about and now served as its ears. The right rabbit wasn't doing much better since its feet were still made of the rubber soles. Both had matching 'All-Star' labels.

The Doctor picked them up by the scruffs of their necks and watched their canvas noses twitch in harmony. "My shoes… but I actually bought these ones!"

Umbridge sniffed. "They were completely ridiculous – a mockery of wizarding values."

"I'm a squib." he protested. "I have no wizarding values."

Umbridge ignored this, storming out of the classroom and leaving the stunned Doctor barefoot, his trainers still trying to come to terms with their new identities.

The Doctor looked from his shoes to his class. "Luna, would you go and find Professor McGonagall for me?"

After classes were over for the day, the Doctor went up to his bedroom and lay on his bed for a while, thinking. Professor McGonagall had fixed his trainers with a single wave of her wand, but, try though she might, she couldn't remove the smell of rabbit from them. He drummed his fingers against them quietly for a moment, and then an idea came to him.

"Dobby?" the Doctor called out. "Dobby?"

Crack.

The house elf appeared and bowed to the Doctor. "Dobby is most grateful for the warning Professor Smith gave him about Harry Potter, sir. Dobby would do anything – _anything_ to thank you, sir!"

The Doctor smiled. "Good, because I'd like you to have these."

He handed over the Heelys which reflected in the elf's large, tennis ball-like eyes. "For me, sir? But I haven't done anything, Professor Smith, sir."

"You delivered my message yesterday." the Doctor said simply. The elf reverentially tied the large trainers onto his small feet and tested the wheels out experimentally, slipping a few times before finally getting the hang of them. The Doctor watched Dobby, with his knitted hats and tea cozy, sailing across his bedroom, eventually daring to test them out in the corridors. The image of the elf skating all over Hogwarts, and hopefully, even terrorizing Umbridge with the 'unprofessionalness' of it all, was priceless.

The Doctor wasn't the only one who was beginning to find Umbridge unbearable. In the days since Dumbledore's departure, most of the professors had taken up to hiding in the staffroom in between classes, each with a cup of tea in hand to calm their Umbridge-frayed nerves. Everyone jumped, when, the week after Easter holiday, McGonagall stormed into the staffroom, her mouth practically invisible with rage. Several of the shocked teachers pointed McGonagall to a chair and, as the Doctor poured her a cup of tea, asked her what was the matter.

"That – that woman said that, during his career advice meeting, that Potter was not cut out to be an Auror thanks to his criminal record - which she knows full well the boy was acquitted of!" McGonagall huffed and a glint shone coldly in her eye as she added, "I know it's not in his nature, but when Dumbledore returns, I hope he'll make the experience as humiliating for her as possible!"

Several colleagues nodded in agreement. One or two even went glassy eyed, remembering the horrors they'd personally enjoyed watching Umbridge experience during their most recent dreams.

The Doctor looked down at McGonagall, his eyes distant, remembering something that deeply troubled him. "You're really going to need to be careful with Umbridge, Minerva. She's a whole kitten-caboodle of dangerous and she's only just getting started."

McGonagall snorted, sinking back further into her chair, her lips small slits of fury.

The Doctor handed her the cup of tea before picking up a copy of the _Daily Prophet _from the coffee table and choosing a chair next to hers. It was really more to have something to do than for actual study. He supposed it was something like humans reading five year old fashion magazines in a doctor's clinics. The teachers, now that the crisis was over, had returned to their usual chatter.

"If you don't stop now you're going to get hurt." the Doctor warned. She shrugged dismissively, raising the tea cup to her still thin mouth.

To take his mind off the future the Doctor unfolded the _Prophet_ and briefly glanced down at the present where, on the front page, there was a large black and white not-so-still photo of Cornelius Fudge. He immediately turned the page.

The door to the staffroom swung open and every conversation promptly keeled over, dying on the spot. Any entrance Umbridge ever made into the staffroom was more of a condescension than her girlish manner would have led them to believe in early September.

The Doctor was sure that the sickeningly sweet smile the headmistress was now gave McGonagall was only three steps away from becoming an outright sneer. "I see we still think that Potter would make a good Auror, no matter what his track record may be, hmm?"

At this McGonagall straightened up, but before she could speak Umbridge continued. "I wouldn't have imagined such a great teacher as yourself being given to sulking quite so easily, Minerva, especially when faced with the simple facts of the matter."

Without coming out from behind the _Prophet_ the Doctor placed a warning hand on McGonagall's before attempting to smooth things over for her sake. "It is any teacher's prerogative to have faith in their students' abilities."

Umbridge's toadlike smile widened, as though sensing a particularly juicy fly was finally within reach. "Quite right Professor Smith. Quite right indeed, although I fear that Minerva's faith in the boy is completely unfounded."

The Doctor absently turned yet another crinkling page. "In a world like this one, you never know how things will truly end until you've finished reading the last page."

Umbridge looked down at the _Prophet_. "Speaking of reading, I'm sure you've read the latest interview with Cornelius - Oh, I'm so sorry," she covered her mouth theatrically with one hand and forced a giggle. "I mean the Minister of Magic. It's just that the minister and I are such very good friends that I sometimes forget others are not so privileged as to be on a first name basis with him. Silly me!"

While the rest of his colleagues grimaced, certain that there was nothing silly about her claims concerning the minister, the Doctor remained hidden behind his paper, determined not to give Umbridge what he thought she deserved.

"Anyway," she continued on, "Mr. Fudge has once more dispelled the ill-founded rumors concerning He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's return."

The Doctor shrugged, flipping several pages within the span of a few seconds, trying to tolerate the new headmistress for a single moment longer. "Sorry, must've glossed over that one."

As the pages continued to turn, Umbridge forgot the need to feign a smile and, for a second, her mouth moved silently with indignation. Finally, she hissed, "But- but you're not even reading the articles, are you!"

"Hmm? Oh, no, I'm not reading every article, just skimming for anything important." The Doctor was now well over halfway through the paper. "Unfortunately, it seems that I'm to be disappointed, as usual."

Umbridge's face twitched for a moment, struggling to regain control. Just as the Doctor thought she would finally leave him alone, Umbridge suddenly burst out laughing.

"What? There aren't enough pictures for you? " the pages stopped turning and an almost tangible wave of ancient power and rage swept over the staff room, coming from the man behind the _Prophet_. The teachers involuntarily leaned away, unconsciously knowing that a line had finally been crossed which ought not to have even been touched.

The Doctor very slowly folded down the top of his paper as he stared over it for ten seconds too long, directly at Umbridge. She took a step back.

Then the _Prophet_ was straightened back up and the world felt normal again. The room let out a sigh of relief.

"Well now," said Umbridge breathily, trying to recover from the sudden atmospheric change. Upon hearing herself, she gave her signature 'hem, hem,' hoping to frighten the fear out of her own voice. It didn't work, so instead she turned away from the Doctor and back to Professor McGonagall, giving her the most sickeningly sweet smile she could muster. "Minerva, it seems that Gryffindor will be playing against Ravenclaw this Saturday, is that right?"

"So it would seem, Dolores." said McGonagall, eyeing Umbridge suspiciously.

"It is only that, well," Umbridge clapped her hands jovially, "I was thinking, since this is the deciding match for the Quidditch Cup, we might place a friendly wager on the outcome, for fun."

The staff rather doubted this would be 'fun' and remained silent while she continued. "I will bet ten galleons that Ravenclaw will win the cup and that Gryffindor's keeper Mr. Weasley 'cannot block a single ring.'"

She allowed Malfoy's lyrics to sink in before turning to Professor Flitwick, the head of Ravenclaw house. "Am I right in assuming that you will bet with me, Filius?"

"Yes, of course." squeaked Professor Flitwick, whose eyes were darting back and forth between Umbridge and McGonagall, worry sunk deep into his wrinkled face. "Yes, yes, only I will be betting five galleons, not ten."

"Of course, though I feel that prudence isn't a necessity in your case. What about you, Minerva? How much are you willing to bet against me?"

McGonagall hmphed bitterly. "I'll match you. Ten for ten, Gryffindor wins the cup!"

Umbridge clicked her tongue in mock sadness. "Tut, tut. Oh Minerva, your loyalty is admirable. Pity it cannot often seem to find a better cause. I'm afraid Gryffindor is doomed to -"

"Five hundred galleons."

The teachers turned in the direction of the voice.

"What?" Umbridge laughed nervously upon finding herself once more facing the _Daily Prophet_. "I fear that I have misheard you John, surely you did not just say five _hundred_ galleons?"

The Doctor folded down his paper and spoke lightly, barely managing to hide his contempt. "That's exactly what I said, five hundred galleons."

"On Ravenclaw?" asked Umbridge, concealing her alarm only half so well as the Doctor had concealed his contempt.

"No, on Gryffindor." He straightened up his paper again. "Five hundred galleons that 'Weasley can save anything.' Only one quaffle will ever cross his path during this game."

McGonagall leaned over and whispered urgently. "John, what on earth are you thinking? Have you lost your senses? Five hundred galleons on a boy who cannot manage to stay on his broomstick for more than five minutes! No, I will not have this -"

The Doctor turned a page of the _Prophet_, more to hear the crinkling of the paper than in the pursuit of any particular article. "Trust me," he whispered back to McGonagall. "I know exactly what I'm doing, though" he added to the room at large, "I am giving Dolores a chance to back out right now before it's too late."

This seemed to put some steel back into the headmistress's spine. "I most certainly will not! There is no reason for this, Gryffindor will lose! I need hardly remind you that if they receive any assistance through the use of magic, that that will be seen as an infraction of Ministry Regulations and will result in immediate termination from this school and a six month sentence in Azkaban from the minister himself!"

"Good thing I'm not magical then." said the Doctor quietly, folding up his now finished paper.

Umbridge frantically searched the room, trying to find someone to back her up. She turned to Snape. "Severus, you despise Gryffindor, how much are you willing to wager against John?"

Snape's eyes met those of the Doctor and he answered her warily. "I'm sorry headmistress, but I see no point in this for me. If John wishes to lose his money who am I to stop him, but I would ask only that you leave me out of this."

Umbridge snorted. "What is this, Severus? Surely you are not afraid that Gryffindor will win?"

Snape's eyebrows shot up. "Afraid? On the contrary, I simply do not wish to rob a madman of his fortune."

The rest of the teachers quickly flocked to this standard, and like Snape, refused to bet at all.

"Fine," Umbridge purred maliciously, "we shall see who the fools are come this Saturday."

"No, not fools," the Doctor smiled, "there's only one fool in here, I promise you. Till Saturday it is then."

Five minutes after Umbridge left the staff room, seething, the Doctor was 'escorted' out by professors McGonagall and Snape to have a 'little chat.'

"'there's only one fool in here' what were you thinking?" McGonagall shouted when they'd entered her office. "What nonsense! What stupidity to call Fudge's undersecretary such a thing! And after you warned me not to go upsetting the woman _you_ do it more than doubly so yourself! "

The Doctor shrugged innocently. "I'm sorry Minerva, it just can't be done."

Her lips twitched resentfully into something like a smile. "Still, you had no right to be so foolhardy. Five hundred galleons." She breathed. "Why on earth did you bet five _hundred_ galleons? Couldn't you have been satisfied with fifty or any other number less ridiculous?"

The Doctor looked upwards, thinking. "I dunno; it's just seemed like such a nice, round, even number. Good year too, no matter what side of the B.C./A.D. line you're on."

Snape stepped forward, watching the Doctor carefully. "John, do you have any idea of how much five hundred galleons is worth?"

The Doctor scratched behind his ear. "Quite a lot I gather."

"Ah," Snape's eyes glinted with dark amusement. "so you have no idea at all, I see. In that case, do you even have five hundred galleons?"

"I might. Other than the trainers, I haven't spent anything this year." The Doctor pocketed his hands, glancing from Snape to McGonagall with the utmost sincerity. "And even if I don't, money isn't that hard to come by, is it?"

McGonagall and Snape eyed each other warily before McGonagall spoke, her reluctant smile had now become a grimace.

"John," she said through gritted teeth. "go up to the headmistress right now and apologize, _profusely_. You must pull out of this bet before you're thrown into Azkaban as either a cheater or a debtor. You can't win this, it's impossible."

"Minerva," said the Doctor very seriously, "impossible is only what you've never managed to do before. Impossible odds are my everyday life. Besides, it's a completely safe bet. There is no way that Gryffindor can lose. I know they'll win!"

McGonagall sighed. "As much as it pains me to say this, how can Gryffindor possibly win? Umbridge was right, now that Potter has been suspended from the team they have no chance at all!"

The Doctor patted her gently on the shoulder and smiled. "Trust me, people will be singing a different tune about Gryffindor after this match –well, actually, that's not entirely true. They'll be singing the same tune, but with different lyrics."

McGonagall shook her head in defeat.

Snape's expression was indecipherable. "You will be in need of an alibi…."

"I've already got one." the Doctor said confidently.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "One that doesn't involve any magic?"

"Of course not!"

"And involves a reliable source, one that the headmistress will trust completely?" Snape added.

"Absolutely."

Snape took in a deep breath, only just stopping his eyes from rolling upwards. "Well, at least you've thought one detail of this endeavor through."

"Oh, I've thought of every detail, don't you worry."

"I wasn't." Snape replied quietly. "Dumbledore, for some reason I cannot even begin to understand, seems to feel that your continued presence here is necessary. Don't prove him wrong with your stupidity."

"No," the Doctor grinned, "but I might yet prove you wrong with my genius. Nothing like putting the quid into Quidditch, eh?"

McGonagall cupped her head in her hands and groaned as the Doctor strolled out of the room, singing the infamous tune to an altered set of words. "'That's why Gryffindors will sing, Weasley is our King!'"

Just before the office door had shut behind him though, the Doctor poked his head back through, peering at Snape intently.

"Severus, would you do me a favor?" the Doctor asked seriously.

Snape's eyes did, in fact, roll upwards this time. "If it is within the realms of sanity, I suppose that I might be persuaded to."

The Doctor grinned.

The match had ended less than a half an hour before and, even now in her office, Umbridge could still hear the altered lyrics ringing painfully in her ears:

'Weasley is our King,

Weasley is our King,

He didn't let the quaffle in,

Weasley is our King!

Weasley can save anything,

He never leaves a single ring,

That's why Gryffindors all sing:

Weasley is our King!'

Umbridge felt sick; sick, humiliated, disgraced and, above all else, absolutely sure that some statute of Wizarding had been broken. Directly after the match she'd had the referee Madame Hooch search every inch of every quaffle to find any trace of magic. There was none. She'd sent out her Inquisitorial Squad with the sole purpose of discovering Professor Smith's whereabouts in the hours leading up to the match. The most interesting news that they'd managed to turn up so far was that he hadn't even bothered to attend the match at all. They'd found him lounging in the staff room, reading a book, apparently unaware that the game had even begun.

Umbridge finally untangled her fingers from her hair and began riffling through her desk drawer. Seconds later, her pudgy hands emerged, holding a small stack of papers, each labeled _Details for the Termination of Employment_. Of course, like every important document that had come within the headmistress's reach, these too had been copied onto pink parchment. She reached for the first quill in sight and began to violently check every box within the reach of its chiseled edge when she suddenly yelped in pain. In her haste, she'd grabbed the Blood-quill.

Down in the staffroom, every other member of the faculty was whole-heartedly congratulating McGonagall on her house's victory, letting the Doctor quietly sip his cup of tea at the back of the room, not knowing what else to do with him. Eventually, Snape joined him there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He watched as the Doctor began on his biscuit. "How is it that you can possibly eat at a time like this?"

"Practice." the Doctor replied simply.

Snape looked away, towards the happy crowd surrounding McGonagall. "I hope, for your sake, that this works."

The Doctor leaned against the wall and somehow managed to, in between the biscuit and cup of tea, nearly fold his arms, mirroring Snape.

"Did you do what I told you to?" he asked conspiratorially.

"Yes."

"Then I have nothing to fear." the Doctor bit into his biscuit.

"If you were expecting her to hand over five hundred galleons –"

"Nah, she'd never give it to me." said the Doctor, waving his biscuit about vaguely, "There'll probably be some new Educational Decree forbidding any form of gambling by this evening, conveniently making our little wager null and void, you can bet on that. Besides, what would I do with five hundred galleons?" He took another sip of tea and stood up away from the wall. "I only wanted to humiliate her."

"Well, you've certainly succeeded at that." Snape agreed dubiously, leaving the wall as well.

"I know," there was a bang as the staffroom door bounced into the stone wall, revealing a very angry Umbridge with a pink roll of parchment in hand. The Doctor sniffed then drained the rest of his tea, placing the cup on the nearby windowsill. "and now for the fun part…."

"Where is he?" she demanded of any and all within the range of her pudgy fingers. "Where's Mr. Smith?"

"Here I am!" the Doctor pushed himself to the very front of the bewildered staff, giving the headmistress a friendly smile. "And it's Professor, not Mister. What would you like to talk about? Do you have the five hundred galleons for me?"

"No, I have this!" she thrust the end of a pink roll towards him. He didn't take.

"What am I supposed to do with a remarkably crumpled, not to mention alarmingly pink, roll of parchment?"

Umbridge straightened herself up to her full height, trying to emanate the power and authority that neither the ministry nor her stature could truly give her. "In light of Gryffindor's victory, I have decided that it is in the best interests of this school to terminate your employment here, effective immediately!"

"Let me assure you that I have done nothing." the Doctor explained calmly. "Gryffindor won on their own merits, especially those of their Keeper, Mr. Ronald Weasley."

"Weasley's rubbish!" McGonagall began shouting her protests at this, but Umbridge continued over the noise, pointing the rolled parchment at the Doctor's chest emphatically. "You must have done something! You've broken wizarding laws, I'm sure of it! You must have done something yesterday or today that interfered with –"

Umbridge was cut short by the most unbearable gasps of wheezing imaginable as Filch entered the room, waving a plaque madly about him.

"I've got it mistress! Educational Decree Number – number…." Filch looked down at the plaque, "Number Thirty-one is ready for the hanging, ma'am."

Filch slowly looked at the scene in front of him where Umbridge had the crumpled roll of parchment pointed at the Doctor like a wand. The Doctor pocketed his hands and turned smiling towards Filch. "It looks like I'm to be terminated 'effective immediately.'"

"Ahh," Filch grinned, which wasn't the prettiest of sights to behold, misunderstanding him. "don't worry about that, Professor Smith, sir. The headmistress always uses pink slips of parchment –"

The Doctor shrugged. "True, but apparently I was busy all of yesterday trying to foul up today's game."

To the surprise of the entire room, Filch let out a wheezy laugh. "But you were with me while I was polishing the armor and scrubbing down every last section of floor in the Great Hall, and all. Chatted a lot too, didn't we?"

"Yes, we certainly did." said the Doctor, who'd barely spoken a single word during the endless rantings of the woes of Argus Filch. Whenever he had spoken, it was something exceedingly vague, neither protesting nor condoning the use of whips on one's students. "Certainly learned a lot about your Uncle Ambrose and the Christmas of 1923. Tough year for your family, I'm sure."

"That it was, that it was, what with the alleged murder and all. People still don't believe he killed that muggle man that left the biscuits on his doorstep, isn't that right?"

"Especially since he didn't! Only claimed to have done it so he wouldn't have to admit how he'd gotten the biscuits in the first place. Course, when the supposedly dead man was seen to be walking around in remarkably good health, that didn't help ol' Ambrose's claims."

Argus wheezed excitedly. "'till his dying day, he never admitted the truth, did he? Even put a spell on the poor man, to prevent him from being seen, just so's it could look more suspicious."

The Doctor shook his head, smiling. "Just goes to show what lengths people are willing to stoop towards to prove themselves right, 'especially when faced with the simple facts of the matter.' Isn't that right headmistress?" The Doctor took his right hand out of his pocket and gently pushed the roll of parchment away with one finger. "I don't think that will be necessary anymore."

Umbridge, who was staring at Filch helplessly, did not notice this. "Indeed…." she whispered desperately. "Was Professor Smith with you the _entire_ day, Argus?"

Argus smiled proudly. "Yes ma'am, the entire day."

"Then what about last night?" she asked desperately. "This morning? Surely he had plenty of opportunity then, did he not?"

Snape strode to the front of the room and stood next to the Doctor, his arms still crossed. "After you and John made that wager, I feared that Gryffindor might in some way receive a, shall we say, helping hand." he said calmly in the face of Umbridge. "I personally saw to it, headmistress, that several of the school's house elves were ordered to safeguard all of the Quidditch supplies and ensure that nothing of the sort could happen. Not only did I send one to watch over the equipment and another to the pitch, but I also sent a third to keep an eye on our colleague here, to assure myself. If you so desire, I can call them in to verify –"

"No, no, Severus," she whispered hoarsely, "that will be all. Thank you for your diligence in the performance of your duties to this school."

Snape inclined his head. "As always."

She turned back to the Doctor, who returned her gaze coolly.

"You are to be on probation until further notice." She breathed, crumpling up the pink roll of parchment and allowing it to drop onto the floor at his feet.

The Doctor nodded and, looking down at the dead document, hid his smirk as Umbridge trudged out of the room.

His colleagues made sure that Umbridge was well out of ear shot before wringing the Doctor's hands (whichever one wasn't already occupied), thumping him on the back, and heartily shouting their congratulations. Hagrid, whose hands were far too big to find their way to the Doctor's shoulder amidst the crowd, settled for ruffling the Doctor's hair enthusiastically. The Doctor's knees buckled under the surprising force, which had traveled from his head, down his spine and into his legs, smiling. His glasses had gone askew.

"Yeh did it!" Hagrid boomed cheerily. "But how d'ya know Gryffindor'd win?"

The Doctor's eyes, one through a lense and the other above one, found those of Snape, who was on the outermost fringe of the crowd looking on incredulously. "Oh, just a lucky guess, I suppose. Wouldn't have been nearly so lucky if Snape hadn't given me such a good alibi."

Since all of the staff, save McGonagall, were unaware that Snape having the Doctor tailed was more than an act of pettiness, they ignored this last comment.

The celebrations went on, privately behind the staffroom door, for several days. Even though teachers had been banned from speaking about anything other than their course material, owing to Educational Decree Number Twenty-six, somehow, by Sunday morning, there wasn't a single student who didn't know the true reason behind Educational Decree Number Thirty-one.

With everyone privately congratulating him, or begging to know how he'd done it, the Doctor was very pleased when, just before dinner, he arrived in the staffroom to find it completely empty. The Doctor had one moment to relax before the door opened and Snape walked in.

The Doctor sighed. "Why am I even surprised, Severus? I can honestly say that I've never met anyone quite as good at keeping tabs on me as you."

Snape smiled, sat down on a couch nearby and pulled out his potioneering magazine. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"Frankly," said the Doctor, "it's bordering on one. It would've been a genuine compliment if this wasn't so irritating."

"I am only following Dumbledore's orders."

"Yeah, but you're thoroughly enjoying it, I can tell."

There was a sound just outside in the corridor, like ten vases breaking all at once.

"I saw Peeves unscrewing a chandelier as I was following you here." said Snape, by way of explanation.

"Ah." The Doctor could now hear Professor Umbridge, who was screaming at the top of her lungs. "Nothing like Peeves to cause true havoc for Umbridge. What would we do without him?"

When the staffroom door opened again the Doctor, who expected to see Umbridge, was surprised instead to come face to face with the only Professor he'd never once spoken to, Professor Trelawney. She was breathing heavily, her body pushed up against the door, her glasses hanging slightly askew.

Upon seeing the Doctor, she smiled. "The crystal ball told me you would be here."

The Doctor raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Is that so?"

She nodded. "One of my students, who has been kind enough to visit me during my season of exile, told me of your wager last week, for the Gryffindor team and their inept keeper. Once the crystal ball revealed to me your whereabouts, I asked the poltergeist Peeves to create a distraction so that I might come down here to personally speak with you."

All the muscles in the Doctor's legs sensed that it was time to run, but Trelawney was still leaning against the door and catching her breath, unconsciously blocking the Doctor's only exit.

"Are you by chance related to the renowned seer Cassandra Trelawney?"

The Doctor stared at her, dumbstruck. "Are you asking me if I'm related to _you_?"

"I am her great-great-granddaughter." Trelawney declared proudly. "These things often skip three generations, and, seeing as we are roughly the same age…."

"You are kidding me, right?"

Trelawney mistook the Doctor's offended tone for one of moderate surprise. "And it is said that the less skill that one possesses a wand, the easier it is to truly See with the Inner Eye."

"No!" the Doctor exclaimed, imagining monkeys swinging through trees before landing on the ground and mistakenly evolving into the Trelawney family line. "No, no,no! We are _definitely_ not related! We don't even look alike, do we Severus?"

Snape shrugged unhelpfully, watching the Doctor struggle with immense pleasure. The Doctor rolled his eyes and adopted a long-suffering attitude. "Look, I know you think you're all mysterious in your shawls and those incredibly thick glasses of yours, but -"

"_There is a flower in your lapel_…." Trelawney whispered hoarsely.

The Doctor immediately looked down at his suit coat, his eyebrows knitting together with concern. "Actually, you might want to consider upping that prescription of yours. There is no flower in my lapel."

But Trelawney continued in a rasping voice, gripping her head. "_A rose. A yellow rose; a rose beyond price that will soon be taken from you_…"

"What?" said the Doctor in mounting alarm, all the color was quickly draining from his face.

Snape, who'd been far quicker on the uptake than the Doctor, was already at the door, trying to remove Trelawney from it. The Doctor joined in.

"_Her father will come back for her_," Trelawney continued her prophecy. "_and you will lose your precious Rose_…."

The Doctor and Snape managed to pull open the door, only to hear Umbridge's voice, just outside the staffroom. Snape slammed the door shut and pulled the Doctor away from the doorknob.

"_Another shall be highly praised of the Bard, yet invisible to you for the loss of your Rose_…."

The Doctor struggled against Snape, panicked. "What are you doing? Get – Off - Me!"

"_A noble woman shall come and leave and come again, only to break your hearts, leaving you forever with nothing but a song_…."

"Better to hear than to be overheard." Snape reasoned knowingly, letting go of the Doctor.

"Not if I can help it!" cried the Doctor, clamping his hands firmly to his ears. Trelawney's voice, in response crescendoed, forcing the Doctor to listen to something about water in a forest being called a river, before dying back down and stopping.

The Doctor unclamped his ears and looked from Trelawney to Snape. Trelawney groaned and fainted. Snape caught her in the nick of time.

"Sorry, I must have dozed off," said Trelawney, standing up and straightening her shawls as though nothing had happened. "What was I saying?"

The Doctor and Snape stared at each other again.

Trelawney's face suddenly lit up. "Ahh, yes Professor Smith, I was about to ask you if, by any chance, you are related to the renowned seer Cassandra Trelawney?"

"Possibly," the Doctor lied, afraid anything less might set her off again.

With that, he pulled open the door and ran.

When Snape finally caught up with him, the Doctor was at the end of a small corridor, peering out a window facing the Forbidden Forest, where the TARDIS was parked. Snape's reflection in the window looked curiously at the Doctor and mouthed one word, 'Rose?'

The Doctor took his eyes off the reflection, instead focusing on the black canvas of his shoes. "I travel a lot," he began awkwardly, "and sometimes I take people with me, as my friends."

He hesitated. "Most people think that I was the one who picked up Rose, but really, it's the other way around. When she found me, I was lost, lost and completely alone, drifting aimlessly throughout all of existence. I'd still be lost if it wasn't for her. But when she agreed to come with me, for the first time in oh, so long, I had someone who I…." he stopped.

"Still, doesn't matter." the shoes could no longer hold his interest, but he felt the stone wall might have some potential. "I'll be leaving here soon enough…." he forced a small laugh. "I don't really hold much to prophecies anyway, especially ones coming from a fraud like Trelawney. How could Rose's father come back? After all, he died when she was very young." He reasoned to himself determinedly.

The Doctor didn't dare catch Snape's eye as he began walking back down the corridor, knowing that, if he had, he would have seen a small glimmer of pity reflecting back at him. Snape would be thinking of another flower which had been taken away almost sixteen years ago as the result of one of Trelawney's prophecies.

Luckily, over the following weeks, the Doctor had something aside from Trelawney's prophecy to worry about. Harry's O.W.L.'s were fast approaching, which meant the end of book five was drawing near. Unfortunately, that also meant that the workload of being a Hogwarts teacher became unbearable, what with the stacks of homework to be graded and the tests to make, he would've paid Dobby his entire year's salary to have the elf do it for him if instead.

As it was, the Doctor was forced to, in between mounds of parchment that would've made any student cry, prepare for his final confrontation with the clockwork men. He spent hours in the library, trying to find anything in any book concerning the Department of Mysteries, but had no luck at all. There wasn't even a basic map of the department on any of the schematics of the Ministry of Magic.

Ultimately, the best that he could do was to sit back and wait until the final day of the exams, the day Harry would be taking his History of Magic test. All that the Doctor knew about this was that, for an indefinite amount of time, Harry would be taking the written portion, but then, would fall asleep and see what Voldemort wanted him to see: Sirius being tortured in the Department of Mysteries by the Dark Lord himself.

Of course, none of the vision was true, but Harry would believe otherwise, and Hermione would have him try to contact Sirius through Umbridge's private Floo Network. The Doctor only hoped that, since he himself would have no idea what time any of this would occur, Hermione would be able to contact him, through the pair of sickles she'd enchanted, before she, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville and Luna rushed off to the Department of Mysteries.

The afternoon of the History of Magic exam finally came and the Doctor, knowing Snape would arrive in Umbridge's office at a critical point, set out to keep an eye on Snape. This turned out to be much harder than the Doctor had anticipated, being unexpectedly pulled aside by several of the O.W.L. examiners in turn, each congratulating him on the finest Fifth year Muggle Studies class they'd ever encountered. By the time the Doctor had finally managed to shake the examiners off, he'd lost track of Snape.

As the Doctor began desperately searching for Snape, he felt the sickle inside his pocket heat up suddenly. It was time.

Just when the Doctor had abandoned his search, intent on simply bursting into the headmistress's office and improvising it from there, he found Snape who was heading up a flight of stairs. The Doctor quickened his stride, arriving next to the potions master.

"On your way to see Professor Umbridge?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Yes," Snape conceded, "why?"

"Oh, nothing." the Doctor slowed down his stride, matching that of Snape. "Just curious. Mind if I tag along? Be your shadow for the day?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "I suppose you wouldn't take no for an answer, would you?"

The Doctor beamed. "Not at all."

They were a few staircases away from the headmistress's office now.

"A word of caution," Snape said, starting up the second to last flight of stairs left to climb, "she's got Potter and his friends up there."

The Doctor blinked. "What?"

"It is a matter of great delicacy, one which would only escalate should you try and tamper in it, I assure you. Let me handle it." Snape turned to face the Doctor, who was still at the bottom of the stair.

"This isn't your first time there today?" the Doctor asked uneasily.

Snape watched him closely. "No, should it have been?"

"Oh, no!" the Doctor began dashing up the steps, taking them three or four at a time, a confused Snape trailing after him.

When he reached the headmistress's door, the Doctor threw it open and let out a groan. Inside, the Doctor found no trace of Hermione, or even Umbridge. Instead he came across several members of the Inquisitorial squad, including Malfoy, lying on the ground in varying degrees of consciousness.

Snape swept into the room and knelt down next to Malfoy, who was clutching his nose for dear life. "What happened Draco?"

The Doctor, still dazed, watched as several small khaki things flapped around the room, desperately trying to remain airborne.

"Judging by the look of things, I would have to say a Miss Ginevra Weasley happened." One of the bat bogies, which the Doctor had been watching, gracefully collided with a lampshade, casting a familiar shadow on the stone wall. "That's disgusting! Bruce Wayne would not approve."

On the ground beneath the bat's silhouette, something shiny caught the Doctor's eye. He bent down and picked it up. It was Hermione's enchanted sickle.

"Looks like Miss Weasley was also the one who contacted me. Hermione must not have had enough time to before Umbridge caught her."

Snape finished the incantation to stop Malfoy's nose from evicting any more bat-bogies then looked at his colleague. "What makes you think it was the Weasley girl who contacted you?"

"Had to be." the Doctor replied, sadly contemplating the silver coin. "Hermione doesn't trust Luna's judgment enough yet and, even if the world were ending, Ron would've somehow managed to pocket a sickle, enchanted or not."

He placed the coin into the pocket that held its mate. "We have to go to the forest. There's still a chance that we can catch them before they leave."

Snape lept up immediately, following the Doctor as he started towards the Forbidden Forest. When they arrived there a few minutes later, there was no sign of Hermione or any of the others. Snape spun around, searching every tree just in case someone was hidden there. "They can't have left the school. They don't even have anything to leave it _with_."

The Doctor knew it was hopeless. "Thestrals. They're using the thestrals that pull the carriages to Hogwarts at the beginning of the school year. They're headed off to the Ministry of Magic right now. They think Sirius is in danger."

Snape was still searching the forest. "Sirius is at headquarters. I had just finished checking before you arrived. Other than the possibility of being bored to death, he was in no danger, I assure you."

"He will be." the Doctor looked down at the forest floor, thinking, then frowned. "Severus…. we've got a problem."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Have you only _just_ noticed that? I thought it was obvious, but clearly I was mistaken."

"That's a footprint…." said the Doctor in alarm. "There are footprints everywhere…."

"Yes John, I am very sure Potter and his friends came through here."

"Yes," said the Doctor, "but does Harry have about sixty sets of feet - all wearing metal boots at that?"

Snape looked down, only just realizing that every single patch of earth hard been turned up, as if an army had stomped through recently. There were even one or two small bits of metal which had been lost in the soil. The Doctor's hand swept through his hair anxiously.

"We must be running further behind than I thought. But why were they here? They must have come just after Hermione, but before we did, why?"

"Oh," the Doctor pulled out his Sonic Screwdriver excitedly, pointing it at everything in sight, "this must be it. This is where they've been keeping the backup kinetic entity displacer."

"The kinetic what?" Snape asked, surveying the scene thoughtfully.

"The kinetic – oh, it's just a red metal box! Helps them teleport. I knew they had a backup here somewhere in the forest, but I could never figure out where it -" Snape didn't wait for the Doctor to finish, pulling out his wand and muttering, "_Accio metal box_."

Instantly there was a banging sound, coming from the inside of a tree. Snape lowered his wand and the noise stopped.

"Ah," said the Doctor, who grudgingly watched as Snape aimed another spell at the base tree, where a small door flew open, "that would explain why I was never able to find it before. The Sonic can't sense anything through wood."

"And you haven't fixed that problem?" asked Snape in disbelief. "Do you think they knew?"

"Oh no, I think it's probably just a tragic coincidence." the Doctor said, ignoring the first question. He knelt down and reached into the hollowed tree, pulling out a red metal box and examining it. He pointed his screwdriver at it, then popped the metal top off and peered inside. "I was seriously wondering how exactly they'd planned to lock onto the Department of Mysteries. Now I know."

The Doctor pulled out a single strand of wavy brown hair. "They must've gotten this off Hermione, when she was decorating them just before Christmas." he continued examining the box as he explained. "They've added a Bio-fixator, which, from the look of things, probably creates some sort of link, through genetic materials, allowing the machine to transport them within, oh, roughly a hundred yards of the unlucky donor."

Snape watched the Doctor skeptically. "You mean to say, the suit of armor which I stopped you from attacking at the end of last term is stalking Miss Granger, in order to determine its 'Destination' in a process similar to Apparition?"

"Yeah, that about sums it up, but it won't be alone. There'll be sixty of them, maybe more…." the Doctor stood up and looked at Snape. "You'll need to stay here, contact Dumbledore and any other Order members you can! If the Death Eaters were to see you with me that would probably ruin your cover."

"How do you know about-" Snape began, taken aback, but the Doctor cut him off.

"That's not important. What's important, right now, is that they didn't get what they wanted in the Room of Requirement and now they'll to stop at nothing to get it from the Department of Mysteries."

"So, preventing them from entering the Room of Requirement was your first plan and now they've simply found a way around it?"

"Oh, no," the Doctor said excitedly, "the whole Room of Requirement thing _was_ plan 'B.' This has always been their plan 'A.' This is what they've intended to do from the very beginning."

Snape had gotten out his wand again, preparing to send a Patronus to contact Dumbledore. "What was your plan 'A' for stopping them supposed to be then?"

"'Plan **A**llons-Y,' of course!"

As the Doctor began sprinting towards his TARDIS, he could see the glowing white doe of Snape's Patronus as it sped past him, winding its way through the trees and heading to wherever Dumbledore was now waiting.


	7. Chapter 7

Part VII

"NOW!" yelled Harry.

Five different voices behind him bellowed "_REDUCTO!_" Five curses flew in five different directions and the shelves opposite them exploded as they hit. The towering structure swayed as a hundred glass spheres burst apart, pearly-white figures unfurled into the air and floated there, their voices echoing from who knew what long-dead past amid the torrent of crashing glass and splintered wood now raining down upon the floor –

"RUN!" Harry yelled, and as the shelves swayed precariously and more glass spheres began to pour from above, the masked Death Eaters were distracted from their six moving targets.

Ginny, who was lagging behind Ron and Luna, desperately fought to keep up with them, reaching out her hand and hoping that perhaps Ron might look back and grab it. He didn't, he couldn't; there wasn't time for that. The most she could do was to grit her teeth and run after him, ducking and swaying as more glass spheres poured down from above her.

They were almost out of row ninety-seven now, the row that had held the prophecy concerning Harry and You-Know-Who. The edge of the shelving was in sight.

_Just a bit further_, she thought desperately, praying that the Death Eaters hadn't already started to chase them. More shelve tipped over, each one unloading thousands of small glass spheres which shattered on the ground. The shrapnel wedged itself into the cuffs of her trousers, brutally cutting her ankles with her every movement.

Once she, Ron and Luna had cleared the row they turned and began sprinting in the direction of the door which they had first entered through. Ginny looked over her shoulder, expecting to find Harry, Hermione and Neville behind her, but they weren't there. They'd vanished. Instead there were several Death Eaters, who had escaped the wreckage of row ninety-seven and were now heading her way. Without losing step, Ginny sent several stunners behind her, all of which whizzed past them, missing her targets. She was sure their masks now hid sneering grins.

To wipe the grins off their hidden faces, she sent out her favorite hex. There was a thwacking sound as the hex hit one of the Death Eaters square in the mask, and then there were more thwacking noises, this time coming from the inside of the mask. Two Death Eaters tried to aid their fellow, who had ripped his mask off and was screaming as dozens of bat-bogies flew rapidly from his nostrils. Ginny didn't stop running to admire the view.

Moments later, a spell grazed her cheek, nearly hitting Luna. The two Death Eaters had left their fallen comrade for the moment and were now sending varied streams of light at her. Ginny sent some more stunners behind her and managed to hit one of them. He collapsed as another Death Eater lept over his sprawled form, taking his place in the pursuit. This one was barely holding on to his mask as he began shouting death threats at her, finally giving up on the mask entirely and dropping it. Ginny caught sight of the shouting Death Eater and swore, recognizing the swollen nose and vengeful glare as the usual aftereffects of a Bat-bogie hex.

There was a look of madness in his eyes as, still chasing after her, he held up his wands and shouted, "_AVADA KEDAVRA!_"

The green light of his killing curse missed Ginny by inches.

There was an open door just up ahead and, desperately, she ran through it, hoping that Ron and Luna were already inside, and –

The room was literally filled with space. There was no floor and, for that matter, no ceiling either. Most importantly to Ginny, this meant that there was no way to run and nowhere to hide as her momentum pulled her gently away from the still open door.

But the room was so quiet, so peaceful in comparison to the Department of Mysteries that she couldn't help but to admire the view. It was beautiful. Tiny pinpricks of light twinkled brightly around her as she floated amongst the stars. Floating wasn't nearly as good as flying on a broomstick, since she couldn't control which direction she was drifting in, but, as Ginny passed a large model of the planet Neptune, she had to admit that floating had its perks. She felt her muscles begin to relax as she was carried through the simulated heavens.

It took a streak of yellow light passing by her head to remind Ginny that she was still in the middle of a battle. Luckily, in her haste to escape, she'd gotten off to a better start than the Death Eaters had. Apparently, the two Death Eaters had entered the room with some hesitation because they were now floating towards her so slowly that, if it wasn't for their spells, she would have had nothing to fear. One of the Death Eaters, however, still had a score to settle with her.

The unmasked Death Eater pointed his wand at the stars near the entrance, hitting a hidden wall and doubling his speed towards her. His eyes were burning with hatred.

His lips were moving, but no sound reached her. Ginny couldn't even hear her own voice as she began shouting out spells, trying to boost her own speed as well, hoping to out distance her assailant, but with little to show for it. For every floundered attempt Ginny made to pick up her speed, she felt that the vengeful Death Eater was gaining five feet on her. He was grinning now.

She aimed a few spells at him all of which he deflected with ease. As they drew level with Pluto, his grin became broader and, somehow, less human as he sailed closer and closer towards her.

In the absolute silence of space Ginny could've sworn she heard a noise, perhaps it was only the sound of her pulse rushing in and out of her ears, but perhaps not. While a small part of her mind realized that the rushing noise seemed to be coming from behind her the rest of her attentions were occupied by the vision of the Death Eater who was now within proper firing range.

Leering, he raised his wand and pointed it at her, obviously savoring these last few moments of her life.

Ginny couldn't hear what the Death Eater was saying, but she didn't need to. She knew what it was and what it meant, so, when the jet of green light shot out from the tip of his wand she closed her eyes, expecting to greet eternity.

Ginny felt as though her body was passing through some sort of veil before….

There was a loud bang followed by a triumphant shout. Ginny opened her eyes in time to see the killing curse, which ought to have hit her in the chest, fizzle in front of her, sending vivid streaks of green and yellow light across a barely visible surface.

"Ginny!" shouted a familiar voice.

Ginny managed to twist her head around just enough to make out what looked to be several people standing in a doorway. Just seeing their shoes firmly planted on a floor sent a tremor of jealousy through her.

"Ron!" she exclaimed, managing to spin in midair to have a proper look. "Luna!"

She saw them smiling at her from in a blue door located under a small black banner where the words 'Police Public Call Box' were lit up. Aside from Ron and Luna there was also a man in a brown suit who was poking his head out from behind the opposite door which had remained closed.

"Doctor?" she said, looking at the man who was now facing Ron.

"See, I told you we'd save her." the Doctor smiled and watched as the mad Death Eater continued to throw curses at the force field. Satisfied that the spells couldn't penetrate the shield, the Doctor looked down at the still floating Ginny. "Sorry we couldn't come sooner, Ginny, but I had to refine the force field a bit so that it would let in physical objects while simultaneously deflecting any high energy wave-lengths, which happen to be the fundamental part of your world's spell work."

He saw her bewildered face and added, "It's like a shield charm that blocks spells and yet allows you to poke a finger through it at the same time. It's complicated."

The Doctor held out a hand to Ginny, who was now floating almost within reach. She stretched out her arm as far as she could, her fingertips mere inches away from his.

"Come on, let's get you into the - _Ginny!_" the Doctor flung out his arm and grabbed Ginny's wrist with his body braced against the door just as something slipped around one of her calves, then slid down past the hem of her trousers, wrapping itself firmly around her ankle – and pulled.

Struggling to grip the Doctor's hand, Ginny looked down and saw that a small line of rope was connecting her ankle to the Death Eater who was now mercilessly tugging it with his wand-free hand. His other hand waved his wand madly, barraging the protective shield with spells whose force pushed him away from it. The tension on the line increased.

The Doctor seized hold of her other hand, barely maintaining the status quo. "I was hoping that the learning curve would have been steeper than that…." he grunted bitterly. "Just hold on!"

Ginny, wand still in hand, gripped the Doctor's wrists as he began trying to pull her in, realizing that the only thing preventing him from falling out as well was the single blue door he was leaning against.

She knew that the Death Eater only needed the very tip of her foot to pass through the shield to perform the killing curse on her. She looked down. Already, her foot was within inches of the barrier. The Death Eater was grinning evilly.

Ron took out his wand and was halfway through casting a severing charm when Luna knocked the wand aside. Ron swore and turned on her, but Luna, looked unperturbed.

"I don't think Ginny would be very happy if you missed the rope and accidentally cut her leg off instead, would she?" said Luna reasonably.

"Then what can we do?" Ron cried

"Think _outside_ the box!" the Doctor yelled, still fighting to keep Ginny's foot from leaving the force field. "There are fake planets out there!"

Luna took the hint and aimed her wand at the model of Pluto. "Do you think this spell will pass through the shield charm, Professor Smith?"

"Yes!" he shouted. "It was never meant to be attacked from the inside."

Luna smiled.

"_Reduct -_" she began serenely, and then several things happened at once.

The Death Eater pulled harder, snapping Ginny's ankle and jerking the Doctor forwards. Ron, who had, unfortunately, chosen that precise moment to help the Doctor with Ginny, was instead knocked off his balance and collided into Luna whose spell then missed the planet.

There was a light popping noise as it struck the room's unseen wall.

"_RON!_" the Doctor roared. "That planet was supposed to blow up and knock the Death Eater off your -"

He stopped abruptly and looked down. Ginny's shoe had at last emerged from the protection of the shield and the Death Eater's hand was now firmly grasping it. The Death Eater stopped throwing spells at the force field. He raised his wand and, pointing it just below the hemline of Ginny's trouser leg at her now exposed ankle, he opened his mouth and….

"_PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!_" Ron screamed and the Death Eater froze, his wand at the ready and his mouth still open. Only the man's eyes moved as he tried to fight Ron's curse.

"Brilliant Ron." the Doctor rolled his eyes. "Really brilliant. Now if you could only find a way to pry his frozen fingers _off_ your sister, then -"

There was a strong tug, causing the Doctor to slide down the side of the door a few inches. He looked all about the universe in confusion until he focused on something directly behind Ginny. His eyes widened and his mouth opened. "What?"

The pulling hadn't stopped. In fact, it was now stronger than ever. Ginny winced as the pain in her broken ankle mounted.

"What." the Doctor repeated, looking back down at Ginny, then slowly back up at whatever was behind her, a slow, horrified realization shining in his eyes.

Ron peered at him. "What's 'what?'"

"Luna's spell." the Doctor said quietly. "Didn't you hear it hit something?"

Ron frowned. "Yeah… so?"

"So when was the last time you heard anything from inside this room? Do you know how loud something must be to even be _heard_ in space? And we're a long way away from the walls…."

"We need to get out of here right now!" the Doctor turned his head towards Ron and Luna, his eyes darting between the two, sizing them up. "Ron, your dad has that shed filled with muggle appliances, right?"

"Yeah," said Ron.

"I need you to go to the control consul – that big thing in the middle of the room with a tube coming up out of it – and go to the right side of it and find a very big and obvious lever and pull it. It's our ticket out of here!"

Ron's brows crinkled in thought. "What's a lever?"

The Doctor's eyes rolled upwards while his body slid down a bit more. "It's a big metal stick thing! Got it?"

"I think so," Ron muttered uncertainly.

"Then do it!" he turned back to Ginny and his tone became one of a reassuring nature. "Everything is going to be fine. We'll get this sorted out soon enough."

He allowed his eyes to wander past her once more, and then quickly jerked them back. Luna's head had tipped to one side as she too stared at whatever was happening behind Ginny. "Professor, is that what I think it is?"

"Yes!"

"But Professor Sinistra said that they form in only one of two ways -" he cut her off.

"Apparently we've discovered a third!"

"A third way of forming what?" Ginny breathed, tiny lights were filling her vision as the pain in her ankle continued to increase.

"Nothing. It's nothing." the Doctor replied. "It's just -" he was pulled another inch closer to the floor then sighed. "Ginny, I'm sorry…. I'm, so sorry…. It's –" he hesitated, seemingly unable to come up with anything better than the truth.

"It's a black hole." he admitted finally.

Ginny's vision was definitely starting to give way now. She looked back just as the stars in the far distance began popping out of existence. The second Death Eater, who hadn't seen any of the action so far, waved his arms frantically as he floated backwards toward the hungry emptiness.

The Doctor was pulled lower by another few inches. Trying to find some shred of hope, she looked off to her right, towards Pluto. It seemed that Luna had been looking in the same direction as well.

"At least it hasn't started pulling _us_ toward it." said Luna airily. "We're still near Pluto."

The Doctor grunted, sliding just a bit further down the door.

"Actually, the planet is being pulled in with us."

Some of the airiness leaked from Luna's voice as she said, "Oh."

"Pluto and the TARDIS are trying to resist. Ginny, however, has got a dead-weight hanging onto her from outside the TARDIS's protection, where the gravitational pull of the black hole is much stronger. She would be sucked in much faster than either the TARDIS or the planet…." The Doctor seemed to realize that he'd gone too far and promptly changed the subject. "Why is Ron taking so long! Luna, go and help him find the lever - I think he must have confused it with the buttons!"

Ginny gasped as the pain in her ankle surged. Her vision was darkening and her hands were loosening their grip on the Doctor's. He held on tighter.

"Come on, Ginny, just a little bit longer!" for one second a golden light blazed behind the Doctor's head and she heard her brother scream. Then, as quickly as it had appeared the light vanished and everything inside was silent. The Doctor winced, then, seeing her expression, tried to give her a comforting smile, only making matters worse. "I'm sure they'll find the lever soon."

There was a movement from the hand around her ankle as the Death Eater re-animated. But he didn't try to kill her, instead grasping onto her ankle with his other hand while the black hole continued dragging him in. His hands, however, were sweaty and they began slipping over her skin, twisting her broken ankle in odd directions as they went. Her ankle was on fire.

Most of Ginny's vision had vanished, except for the very center which focused on the Doctor. He was practically at floor level now. "Ginny, everything is going to be alright. We're going to get you out of here, I promise you. Don't let go!"

Her fingers were almost numb. She was surprised they hadn't already let go, but it was only a matter of seconds before they would ….

"Harry." the Doctor whispered unexpectedly.

Ginny could feel her voice crack as she said, "What?"

"For Harry. Don't let go for Harry." he panted urgently. "If you let go now, he'll have nothing to hold onto later. Harry will need you, more than anything."

The Doctor was slowly sliding forwards, but he didn't stop talking. "Every night, when he's finally gone off to defeat Voldemort, he'll look at the Maurader's Map, hoping that you'll somehow know that he's watching out for you."

"Why?" the pain was unbearable and she could only see darkness now, but Ginny held on, determined to hear what came next.

"Because you're the most determined girl he's ever met. You're the girl who stole her brothers' broomsticks, becoming a Chaser all on her own. You're the one who stands up to anyone if you think they're wrong, even Harry. You're the one who will _let_ him go chasing after Voldemort and wait for him to return. Then, after all the tears are gone and the battle is won, you're going to be the only girl who's determined enough to make him laugh again."

"_Now are you the girl I've read about or not!_" cried the Doctor.

Ginny shut her eyes, putting the last of her remaining strength into her numb hands.

The Death Eater's sweaty fingers made one last attempt to maintain their grip, but failed. He let go.

The TARDIS jerked backwards, tipping the Doctor and Ginny inside where they lay gasping for breath. Ginny could feel the metal grates below her rattle as the Doctor got up and walked away. She couldn't imagine how he could get up at all. Every muscle in her body was muttering complaints to her nervous system as her ankle screamed them. She was sure her ankle had swollen to the size of one of the model planets.

She could feel someone trying to help her up and she opened her eyes to find Luna, who looked quite relieved. As Ginny tried to stand up, her broken ankle buckled underneath her. Luna caught her.

"I'm fine," Ginny muttered, very sure that she was on the verge of being sick. She looked around at the strange brown room that Hermione had described to her, what seemed like ages ago, at the beginning of September. "So this is the TARDIS…"

"The TARDIS?" Luna repeated dreamily. Ginny watched as Luna openly admired the textured arches, gazing at each new angle as though it were some new world. As the room began to hum, Luna smiled. "It's sort of magical in a way…. Like Hogwarts I suppose, only different."

Though it reminded Ginny very strongly of her father's shed, which housed countless faulty muggle appliances, she had to admit there was something magical about the place as well. Perhaps it was only because the room was bigger on the inside, but she was sure that there was much more to her feeling than the size of the room could explain, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was.

Ginny's gaze wandered from the awestruck face of Luna to where the Doctor was busily examining Ron, who, though still standing, didn't appear to be in any danger of moving. The Doctor was frowning and his eyebrows were knit with concern.

"Luna, what happened to him." he asked, pointing a funny metal stick at her brother. There was a small blue light at its tip and it was buzzing.

"He was pulling those small round things," Luna said vaguely as her eyes continued traveling everywhere.

"Buttons." the Doctor supplied.

"And he accidently bumped one. Something opened up at his feet below this," she pointed at the large thing at the center of the room.

"The control consul." he amended.

"And there was a misty golden light coming from it."

The Doctor glanced down at his metal wand thing then pocketed it and sighed. "The Heart of the TARDIS. What happened after it was opened?"

Luna shrugged. "It didn't seem very likely to help us escape and he was screaming, so I shut it."

The Doctor put his hands on Ron's temples and closed his eyes. When he opened his eyes again, he had relaxed. "Well, the damage seems to be minor, at least relatively minor. The full-body bind on that Death Eater must have stopped working after he'd looked into the Heart of the TARDIS so it would be safe to assume that his spellwork is going to be a bit unreliable for a while. Hopefully nothing that a few days rest shouldn't be able to fix."

The Doctor turned from Ron, to Luna and stared at her curiously. "How did you know to pull that lever? I didn't think you were paying attention during any one of my lectures."

Luna shrugged. "It was the only thing that he hadn't tried pulling."

The Doctor gave her a weak smile. "Well, in class you would've failed the vocabulary portion of the final exam but received an A plus in the deductive reasoning one. Very good, Luna! Twenty points to Ravenclaw."

He guided a vacant Ron over to a couch near the TARDIS consul and helped him sit down before turning to Luna again. "Let's see… and then you saved several of your classmates' lives, that'll be fifty points apiece. Add to that preventing a Professor from being sucked into a black hole for another fifty points and you're looking at a hundred and seventy points that you've earned within the last five minutes."

The smile became stronger. "At this rate, you might singlehandedly earn Ravenclaw the House Cup."

But Luna, who was still taking in all the sights and sounds of the TARDIS, didn't seem to care much about the House Cup at the moment.

"This whole room is alive, isn't it Professor Smith?" she said wonderingly.

The Doctor looked rather pleased. "Yes. Yes it is. How did you know?"

"It feels alive." said Luna, her protuberant eyes at last gazing at him. "It has a heart and everything here is made of coral."

"Do you like it?" he asked, turning back towards the consul and pressing a few buttons.

Luna beamed. "Oh yes! She's very beautiful, though I think I would have liked a bit more color."

The Doctor stared at her suspiciously. "'She?'"

"Doesn't every captain talk about his ship in female terms?" Luna said simply.

"Ah, yes, of course. Just a coincidence." said the Doctor, relaxing. "Oh, and that'll be another fifty points to Ravenclaw."

Luna tilted her head, puzzled. "What for?"

"For good taste," he replied, "ignoring your comment about the need for more color, that is."

Ginny hadn't been listening to this exchange, instead watching her brother, who was mutely taking in the whole room and at last settling his eyes on the control consul.

Frowning, she turned to the Doctor. "Doctor, are you sure he'll be okay?" Ginny asked. "He's still very pale."

"He'll be fine. It was a fixed event. Something like this was always going to happen to him. Sadly, he's doing much better than I he would."

As though on cue, Ron reached out for a long metal stick on the consul. "Oh, that's what a lever looks like. Must've forgotten, haha."

"Just don't let him touch anything." finished the Doctor, quickly removing Ron's hand from the lever and then pulling it himself.

Luna had to hold onto Ginny as the whole room shook around them and a deep, rasping noise echoed from the large glass tube at the center of the consul. Something bobbed up and down inside it, adding to the overall feeling of being on a dingy in a hurricane. Just as Ginny was sure she was going to be sick over the handrail next to her, it stopped.

"Here we are then!" called out the Doctor. "Sorry that took so long, but I had to do some precision landing."

"Where's 'here'?" Ginny groaned as her stomach began settling down again.

"'Here' is where I've been waiting to go all year." said the Doctor excitedly. "The time is now and the place is the Time Room of the Department of Mysteries where, if we're very lucky, we can end this business once and for all."

"Do you mean that we're going to grab Harry, Hermione and Neville and go back to Hogwarts?" she asked hopefully.

"Only if you want your whole universe to implode."

Ron looked at Ginny, absentmindedly shaking his head and muttering, "That's not good."

The Doctor ignored him; tugging on the trench coat he'd left hanging over a metal handrail. Ginny noticed that he'd pinned one of Hermione's S.P.E.W. badges onto the front of it.

"If the Ministry Time Turners are stolen, then your world will stop existing." the Doctor explained seriously. "End of story. No 'happily ever after' - not even a 'once upon a time.' I grabbed you three because I'm going to need help."

"But what if something happens to the others?" Ginny insisted. "Sirius isn't here, so you can pick them up and keep them safe in the TARDIS, right?"

He looked at her gravely. "When you first came to the Ministry entrance, the old, rundown, telephone box asked you what your business here was. You said it was a 'Rescue Mission.' It gave each of you badges to wear, captioned with the words 'Rescue Mission' over your names. Until you take those badges off, your reason for being here still hasn't changed, even if Sirius isn't the one in need of rescuing. Right now, we're here to rescue your world."

Ginny looked from her foot, to her brother and then to Luna who was supporting her. She sighed. "What can we do to help?"

"There's a whole army of clockwork men who'll be arriving any second now. They'll try to steal the Time Turners but we're going to stop them!" his expression softened as he added, "If you're worried about the others, they're going to be fine, I promise."

"You're definition of 'fine' isn't becoming like Ron, is it?" Ginny asked suspiciously, watching her brother who was now drooling as he stared vapidly at the TARDIS consul. The Doctor ran a hand through his hair, frowning.

"Individually or collectively?" he asked ruefully. "Because, all together, the answer would probably have to be a 'yes,' provided that your brother doesn't push any more of my buttons. As soon as we're done, you can go right back to Harry, Hermione and Neville, alright?"

Ginny nodded reluctantly.

"Brilliant! Okay, Luna, I'll need you to try using '_episkey_' on Ginny's ankle." he ran up to the TARDIS doors, but when his hand touched the door handle, he hesitated. "No, wait, we haven't got time to figure out how many of the bones are broken. Try '_ferula_' instead. We don't want to do anything that Madame Pomfrey might not be able to fix later."

Luna pointed her wand at Ginny's ankle and obediently said 'ferula' causing long strips of bandaging to wrap themselves around the injury. Immediately, the pain subsided and she began to feel like her old self again. Ginny stepped tentatively on her wrapped foot and, seeing that it didn't give way, began limping towards the doors.

"Should we leave Ron here?" Ginny asked, staring at her brother in concern.

The Doctor and Luna immediately turned to look at Ron, who was eyeing the control consul as if it were made of candy, reminding Ginny very much of her father.

"No." the three of them said in unison. Luna went over to where Ron was ogling a switch, and gently pulled him away from it.

"Oh, and Luna," the Doctor called, "would you also bring my bag? It's just under the consul there."

Still holding Ron away from the consul, she bent down to look underneath it. "This funny one that looks like the outside of your ship?"

Luna held it up for the Doctor to see. It was the bag Ginny had watched Hermione knit for him as a Christmas present. Ginny had seen it frequently in the weeks leading up to Christmas break owing to the fact that Hermione had had quite a bit of difficulty with the pattern.

The Doctor beamed at Luna. "Yes, that's the one! Bring it over here."

"Why do you want it? Is it special?" Luna wondered aloud, giving the bag to the Doctor.

He shook his head. "It's what's inside of it that counts."

"And what would that be?" Ginny asked curiously.

"Oh, a helping hand, just in case…. Alright," he said slinging the knitted TARDIS bag over his shoulder, "allons-y!"

And with that, he pulled open the door.

If Ginny hadn't known they were entering the Time Room, she never would have recognized it. The brilliant diamond light of the bell jar which had danced upon the walls when she and the others had first arrived had vanished, making the devastation appear all the worse. Countless timepieces which had all once ticked merrily from the walls and the desks now lay strewn out on the floor, broken and mangled. The beautiful grandfather clock near the far wall had been knocked over, spreading its inner parts all across the floor, mingling them with something like sand. Ginny could feel Luna shift uncomfortably.

"Do you think they've already been here?" Luna asked with unusual darkness, eyeing the round metal things with jagged edges.

"No, it's not exactly _instant_ teleportation they're using." said the Doctor, surveying every inch of the room warily and pulling out his metal wand thing. At last his eyes fell on one of the room's many doors. He frowned. "I think we've arrived after someone else though…."

"But those things on the ground, in the sand," muttered Luna.

"Cogs." he corrected in exasperation as Luna continued.

"I saw them spilling out of the armored man's arm in January, when they attacked the classroom."

"Yeah, well, they run like clockwork," he said, "using cogs and whatnot, but I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't have some sort of a backup system, in case there wasn't anyone around to wind them up."

To Ginny and Luna's great surprise, what they had taken for sand began rising up from the cog encrusted floor, spinning around as a massive cabinet at the far side of the wall began reforming. The pieces of the wooden cabinet fit together perfectly, sliding into place as though this was what they were always meant to do. When it had taken form, Ginny could just make out inside of it the shapes of hundreds of hourglasses in various sizes.

The cabinet was still for a moment and then shattered, spreading the sand and glass all over the floor once more.

"What happened?" Ginny gasped, watching as the pieces began once more to reform into the cabinet.

"Time Turners," the Doctor breathed, "with enough particles to power a space ship. All right here, sending all of that pent up energy into a never ending cycle."

"A never ending cycle?" repeated Ginny.

The Doctor considered this. "Yeah, like the Phoenix and the flame, for instance."

"The Phoenix and the flame…." Luna mused.

He shrugged. "_Somebody_ knocked the cabinet down before this all started, so _technically_, there was actually a beginning to the cycle. But there's always some room for creative license here. Just try to remember that bit about an endless cycle for later on, Luna. Might be useful someday -"

And then they came. At first they were as sheer as ghosts, but then they began to take form. They were armored, much like Hermione had described them, but no amount of explanation would have prepared Ginny for their faces. Many of their visors were either up or they'd taken off their helmets entirely, revealing glass masks over an intricate system of cogs. Ginny found these glass faces to be just as frightening as the skull masks worn by the Death Eaters.

They almost filled the entire room.

Ginny didn't have time to count how many of them there were, but she would have guessed that there were at least forty, maybe even fifty or sixty of these armored things.

Except for those closest to the cabinet, which was now mostly reformed again, the army of armored clockwork men faced the small resistance group, drawing their swords and other assorted weaponry. The Doctor smiled.

"Oh, look," he said, readying his metal wand thing, "they remember me."

"They're not after revenge, are they?" whispered Ginny, ushering the incompetent Ron over to a desk and gesturing him to hide underneath it. She then leaned against it, allowing her broken ankle to rest.

"No, they're just being cautious." the army began to advance towards them. "They know I'm a threat, but they're not out for revenge. Revenge requires emotion."

"Brilliant," Ginny muttered, pulling out her wand, "really brilliant."

The advancing armor stopped within a few yards of them, looking more threatening than ever as they readied their swords, javelins, spears and, in one case, a slingshot. And then they attacked. Ginny and Luna began casting Reductor spells which reduced the fine armor to powder. As the spears, javelins and the small rocks from the slingshot were volleyed at them, the girls took it in turns to cast Protego charms, which the projectiles would then bounce off of. Ginny noticed admiringly that Luna's shield charm was _very_ impressive.

The Doctor, however, had gone into the melee without any spells or magic to aid him and though his metal wand thing was causing some internal damage to the clockwork men, it seemed to be experiencing some technical difficulties. Occasionally, the buzzing sound would begin to fade and the blue light would flicker while the Doctor muttered encouragement to it. Once or twice, in between opponents, he hit it.

The clockwork men at the very back of the room found the Time Turners and reached out towards the cabinet which immediately shattered, thrusting its sandy contents all across the floor. They looked from the wall where the cabinet had been to the sand-strewn floor in what Ginny would have described as 'shock' if she hadn't known they were incapable of emotion. Standing there, without any emotions to relate on their glass faces, they simply looked stupid.

"I don't think they were expecting that, do you?" said Luna casually, downing two of the advancing clockwork men in quick succession.

"Not at all." the Doctor grinned, watching the clockwork men in the distance flounder about, trying to catch the now rising sand particles. "At least that'll buy us some time. I imagine it'll take a few minutes for them to think of catching all the particles in a bag."

"Ginny, see that door there?" he shouted over his shoulder.

Ginny looked from the confused clockwork men to the door she'd seen the Doctor staring at before the fight and nodded.

"Guard it, and if any Death Eaters come out from there, stun them. But wait until you're sure they're Death Eaters, we don't want any friendly-fire. Luna can continue to take out the clockwork men and I'll try to get over to the Time Turners before it's too late."

He grimaced. "As long as we're not flanked by the Death Eaters, this should work."

Luna nodded as Ginny frowned.

It was a good plan for a small fight, but the odds weren't in their favor. The battle that she and the others had been barely scrapping through with the Death Eaters minutes before looked almost winnable compared to this. At best, Ginny, Luna and the Doctor would be facing odds of about thirteen to one. At worst, thinking about this made Ginny swallow nervously, it would be a twenty to one fight.

But there had to be a better way. Growing up with Fred and George, she'd long since stopped believing in 'impossible odds.' Impossible was simply what you didn't have the guts to do. All they needed was a better plan, one that didn't sound like a guaranteed suicide mission….

Her eyes fell on the glinting cogs inside a recently fallen clockwork man's head. She smiled as a plan drifted into her mind. It would be the ultimate bat-bogie hex… very dangerous, though…. It could easily kill everyone _if_ it went wrong.

"Those things in their heads," she called out to the Doctor, who hadn't started enacting his part of the plan yet, "they're called 'clogs,' right?"

"_Cogs!_ They're called cogs!" cried the Doctor as he pointed his metal device, taking out three of the attacking clockwork men at once. The little blue light began to flicker again. "_Come on, work for me!_ Why do you want to know about cogs?"

"Because I've got an idea." she said. "Luna, can you cast a shield charm all the way around us?"

Luna looked up at her from the pile of what had recently been metal, pensively. "I've never tried something like that before, but…."

"Can you?" Ginny repeated.

Luna reduced another armored man to dust. "I think so…."

"Then do it, but bring Ron out from under this desk first. None of us can be exposed. You'll need to cast the strongest shield charm you can and hold it no matter what happens." she didn't watch as Luna abandoned the battle to fetch Ron from the desk he was under, instead hopping on her good foot over to the Doctor. "Doctor, I have no idea what you can do with that device of yours,"

"Sonic Screwdriver." he muttered.

She ignored the interruption. "Just do what you can with it."

He eyed her warily. "What are you planning?"

"Our only real option." she said evasively, trying to maintain her balance as best as she could.

Somehow, even in the midst of a battle with a faulty weapon, the Doctor managed to find the time to give her a suspicious look. "Ginny, what exactly are you planning to do?"

"Rip them to shreds." Ginny stated calmly, raising her wand. "Ready Luna?"

Luna, who had returned with the somewhat vacant Ron, nodded. Ginny placed an arm on her brother to steady herself before turning to face him.

"Ron, all you need to do is to stay there and help me stand, alright. If you're actually conscious help Luna with the shield."

Ron mutely stood there, however he did manage to raise his wand. Ginny gripped his shoulder tighter as she looked at all of them.

The Doctor hesitated. "You've thought this plan of yours through properly, haven't you?"

"Of course I have." Ginny lied quickly. "Everybody _else_ ready?" she shouted.

Ron and Luna nodded.

"Ginny…." the Doctor began, clearly wondering if it had been such a good idea to bring her along after all. She ignored him.

"Then let's go!"

Luna whispered "_Protego_," casting a shield charm that encased them like a bubble, while Ron reinforced it. It looked even more impressive than any of the shield charms Ginny had seen Luna cast so far, bordering on being visible. She just hoped that it would be strong enough.

And now it was her turn.

She closed her eyes, took in a deep breath and softly said "_Accio cogs_."

She didn't open her eyes, she didn't want to see what was happening, but she didn't really need to. She heard every single Clockwork man's glass face shatter and her mind's eye could see thousands of spinning cogs rushing at Luna's shield like a flock of daggers. She could hear Luna gasp and she quickly redoubled her efforts on the shield.

And then they hit. It was like being hit with the force of a knockback jinx, but the shield held. Ginny kept her wand up, causing the metal to circle around the sphere shaped shield, trying to claw their way in towards her. The sound was horrific, like the screeching of a hundred unoiled hinges.

Above the cacophony, she could hear the Doctor, who seemed to have realized what was coming next, whispering, "Brilliant…. Absolutely brilliant."

Already, the force of the spinning cogs was starting to put a strain on Luna's shield charm. It was shrinking. Ginny could feel it constrict as all of the pressure began to build in their heads as well. It felt like her brain was drowning. She opened her eyes.

The cogs were spinning around her, like thousands of swarming bats, each glinting madly. With every rotation around the shield they were getting faster, which was exactly what Ginny wanted.

"This should help!" shouted the Doctor, pointing his metal wand thing up at the spinning cogs and sending a lightning-like current through them. "It'll short-circuit the batteries."

Ginny could feel the static beginning to flow into her hair as the lightening spread all across Luna's shield and through the cogs. It was now or never.

Pointing her wand straight ahead and concentrating on the cogs, Ginny cried out "_FLIPENDO!_"

The electrified gears shot out straight ahead of her and returned to their owners. It was like listening to the world's finest crystal chandelier colliding with the floor.

Ginny relaxed as Luna allowed her shield charm to dissipate.

"We'll need to get back to the TARDIS before the others arrive." the Doctor said, watching the closed office door once more, anxiously.

Ginny nodded mutely, aware for the moment of nothing else but the destruction in front of her. The ground was covered with the Time Turners' sandy particles, which were in turn littered with torn up bits of armor. There was a gauntlet within inches of her injured foot.

A part of her wondered if, out of gratitude for their service, the Doctor might not relent and simply take everyone back to Hogwarts. Hogwarts, after all, was where her bed was and she felt more tired than she had in a very long time.

"Come on," he said gently. She gave him a wan smile and made to follow, prepping herself to hop along behind him.

Ginny gasped as the gauntlet, which was in fact attached to an arm and a body that was hidden beneath the piles of sand, grabbed her ankle and pulled. Ginny fell on her back and looked down to where the clockwork man was starting to reel her in. Its featureless glass face was broken from the cogs exiting it, but, she realized in horror, the electrified ones had entirely missed on re-entry. It was now running off its small battery.

It wasn't angry, because it couldn't be, however, it was determined to obey the last order it had received, to stop them at all costs. Ginny now found its empty fixation more frightening than the bat-bogied Death Eater's hatred had been. She weakly tried to kick it with her uninjured foot, but the gauntlet refused to budge.

"_Ginny!_" cried three different voices behind her as the three individuals each pulled out their weapon of choice, pointing them at the empty face and hitting the clockwork man, who then let go.

But they had also hit the particles surrounding it.

No one ever did figure out what exactly triggered the temporal schism. Perhaps it was the spell Luna cast, or the one that Ron, in an unexpected act of cogitation, shouted or whatever it was that the Doctor did with his Sonic Screwdriver or simply some combination of the three. Though the cause was unknown, the effects were staggering. The last thing Ginny remembered was seeing a shower of golden sand surging upwards and….

There were so many images, so many sensations happening almost all at once that Ginny was barely able to sort them out at first. There was shouting and silence and shouting and silence. Darkness turned to light and light to darkness; relief, pain, then more relief and more pain.

Ginny had no idea how long it took for her brain to catch up with her senses. It seemed like ages, but when it did, she felt just as lost as before. She could see stars all around her, the angry face of the Death Eater she'd hexed, the TARDIS, the Doctor. She could feel her ankle breaking and the Doctor's hands desperately holding onto hers. She could hear Harry's name, over and over again. Then there was the inside of the TARDIS and her vacant brother, the Time Room, the cogs and the feeling of victory before everything had gone wrong.

The scene reversed, playing her memories backwards and forwards in a never ending cycle. Ginny would've screamed if the memories had allowed her to.

Then, something different happened. Just as she was staring at the broken, cog-riddled face, preparing for the tide of memories to sweep her backwards once more, there was a tug on her shoulder and everything faded to black and remained still.

And then there was the bell. It started out very softly, a regular bonging that then grew louder and louder until Ginny tried to cover her ears. She felt something slip off of her shoulders.

Ginny opened her eyes and found herself lying on the couch in the TARDIS, the Doctor's trench coat covering her like a blanket. The TARDIS's rich brown hues had been obscured by a strange red light. Ginny tried to shift position, but her ankle blazed with pain.

"Do you think he'll be alright, Professor?" came Luna's voice, echoing in Ginny's ears alongside the bell's continued gonging.

"He'll be fine in a few hours… I think." replied the Doctor, the buzzing of his metal wand thing had joined the bell's dull beating. "Madame Pomfrey should be able to sort it all out eventually…."

"What's that noise?" Ginny moaned. "Please, make it stop."

"It's the TARDIS' Cloister Bell." replied the Doctor gravely. "And it won't stop until the TARDIS is out of danger."

Ginny could feel a cold sweat building up on her brow as her injury began to seriously take its toll, slowly sending her into shock. Before she could think of how to properly phrase her next question, the Doctor supplied the answer for her.

"Everything in the department has shifted, gone back in time while the world outside has remained on schedule: a temporal schism. Which means that events meant to happen between the two will happen in the wrong order."

Luna tilted her head. "Is that bad?"

"Very." the Doctor sighed. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to set something back one second? Imagine the massive amount of energy it would take to set the entire department back a whole ten minutes' worth of seconds!"

"Ten minutes?" asked Luna in mild surprise.

"According to the TARDIS' last reading, yes. We were lucky to have gotten out of the Time Room at all, but the TARDIS simply did not have the capacity to leave the department, which means that we can't use it until the schism has been resolved and that might take a while. In the meantime, the world outside of the department is running normally and that's a bigger problem."

"Hey look," said Ron ogling the control consul once more, "it's all wibbly wobbly timey whimey stuff…. What fun."

Ginny spotted a tiny rivulet of dark liquid at the corner of his mouth. Ignoring the pain, she struggled to sit upright. "He's bleeding! Doctor, what's wrong with him?"

He looked at her very sadly, as though someone had just died, while he explained. "Because Ron looked into the Heart of the TARDIS, even for the tiniest second, he's become temporarily connected to her. The temporal schism is affecting the TARDIS, practically killing some of her systems, resulting in Ron's brain going out the window. Sort of like an empathy pain, if you will."

Ginny managed to raise an eyebrow.

"Ron, empathetic?" she croaked weakly.

Ron extended a hand to the consul, giggling. "I wonder what this button does…."

The Doctor reached out and caught hold of Ron's wrist, stopping his finger from pressing an odd button in the nick of time. "Yes, I know it's hard to believe, but, unfortunately, he's proving to be _quite_ empathetic at the moment."

"Maybe it'll fly us to the moon so that we can make a Luna landing." Ron laughed groggily. "Get it? Luna, lunar."

"And _very_ annoying." the Doctor added. "Of all the times he could have chosen to expand his emotional range beyond that of a teaspoon…. Here Ginny, be your brother's keeper for a moment, will you? I need to think."

Ron didn't struggle at all as Ginny took hold of his hands, merely tilting his head from side to side, saying 'gong' with each toll of the bell. It was rather like the time he'd been hit in the head during Quidditch practice, only without Madame Pomfrey to fix him up. Seeing no immediate danger of his messing with the consul, Ginny allowed one of her hands to rest on the Doctor's couch. But instead of the leather she was expecting to feel there, her fingertips made contact with something knitted. She looked down and discovered that her hand was resting on the TARDIS bag that the Doctor had insisted on bringing with him earlier.

Ginny didn't dare look inside of it with the Doctor so close by, but she allowed her fingers to search out the shape of it, feeling it like she would a wrapped Christmas present. As far as she could tell, there was only one object contained in the bag, a foot long cylinder by the feel of it. The Doctor, however, seemed far too busy conversing with himself to notice much of anything else anyone was doing.

"Ten minutes, ten minutes, what will that effect?" the Doctor said to himself quickly. "There's a good chance that Dumbledore and the Order will arrive a little later, thanks to my intervention with Snape, so everything should fine concerning that, but…."

The Doctor's mouth fell open and stared off into the distance, as though he'd found another black hole. "But Harry is going to be running out of the department ten minutes too late and – and that would be very, very bad…. How am I supposed to distract_ him_? I only need to distracthim for the last five minutes, but that would be impossible."

Despondently, his eyes traveled from Luna's mildly puzzled face to Ron's befuddled one and then lastly to Ginny's, which she assumed was as confused as the others. His brown eyes caught sight of her hand resting on the TARDIS bag and the color immediately drained from his cheeks.

Ginny expected him to be angry, but instead he simply placed his hands on the consul, resignation filling every one of his features.

"Oh," he whispered to himself dejectedly, "oh. That was always_ his_ greatest weakness. And to think, I only brought that in case Bellatrix or one of the other Death Eaters caught me. Will it even buy me five minutes, though? I would probably still need to lengthen out our conversation…."

The Doctor absently looked up again and found Ron, who was still acting drunkenly stupid, continuing to tilt his head with the bonging of the bell. The Doctor smiled almost bitterly.

"That might do it. The rest will just have to be made up as I go along." he looked down again at the consul mournfully.

"I think – I think I'll need a drink…." he pronounced soberly. "Luna, I need go down to the kitchen. That'll be down the hall, up the stairs and third door to your left. Get me a wineglass and fill it with something red like grape juice, but not ketchup, alright? Good. Ginny, I think your brother is trying to mess around with the switches again."

Ginny, who had been watching the Doctor, had allowed one of Ron's hands free movement. She caught his stray wrist, preventing him from toggling a switch on the consul.

When Luna came back with the glass she looked at the Doctor with deep concern as he recommenced speaking.

"I'll drop you three off where you're supposed to be. Don't tell anyone I was here, especially Harry. Do you understand?"

They nodded and Luna hesitantly gave him the cup, which she had filled with a blood red liquid. "What are you going to do with this, Professor?"

"Waste time." he answered.

She bit her lip. "Is this the only way?"

He sighed. "Yes, it is."

"You're very brave, you know." Luna continued oddly. "Is there anything we can do to help you?"

The Doctor shook his head. "I only hope my gamble will pay off and my hand isn't exposed too soon or we'll be in a far worse position than what we began in tonight. Your universe is in just as much danger now as it was with the clockwork men."

For Ginny the conversation had sailed far beyond her comprehension, but she couldn't help adding, "We'll go with you. We can help! We've got ten minutes before -"

Again he shook his head. "No, you can't. Not this time. Every one of you needs to be _here_, in the Department of Mysteries, or else there will be more people who die tonight and even beyond tonight."

Ginny swallowed. "But no one's died."

He regarded the red liquid inside the wineglass and then spoke with unexpected adamance. "Whatever you do, don't tell Harry I was here. There's nothing I could have done! It was a fixed event!"

Luna continued to watch the Doctor sadly as she and Ginny agreed to the his terms. As Luna assisted Ginny with standing up, Ginny couldn't help wondering what detail of the Doctor's strange speech or manner she'd missed that Luna seemed to have picked up on. Nothing made any sense.

Luna helped Ginny limp over to the TARDIS doors while the Doctor, who had once more donned his trench coat, escorted the confounded Ron ahead of them. Outside of the TARDIS, Ginny found herself in a much smaller, darker location than the Time Room had been. There were some lamps hanging from the ceiling whose dull light seemed only to invite the shadows to draw nearer, barely illuminating a large tank filled with green liquid and something that made Ginny's stomach turn.

"Brains." Ginny mumbled. "I wasn't sorry to say goodbye to this room the last time we were here."

"Well, just bid goodbye to it again, for now. We're not staying here anyways." the Doctor seemed almost as distracted as Ron, having to re-enter the TARDIS upon remembering his knitted bag. He quickly came back out with it, and then almost forgot to escort Ron, rushing back from the room's exit for him.

Luna had stopped walking. "What about the TARDIS? We can't just leave her here."

The Doctor shrugged. "It'll be fine. Nobody is going to notice."

"I think _I_ would." Luna insisted quietly.

"Good for you." he said dismissively.

"Hey look," said Ron drunkenly, pointing his wand in the direction of the tank, "they're brains…. I wonder what they feel like? Accio -"

"_Oh no you don't,_" shouted the Doctor, quickly clamping his hand around Ron's mouth as Ron was about to summon one of the brains from its tank, "_not yet!_"

When the Doctor had literally dragged Ron from the room, Luna turned back to face the TARDIS, whose blue hue appeared to Ginny to be quite as gloomy as the shadows. Luna raised her wand and Ginny heard her whisper a spell she'd never heard before and watched as the blue box was draped in lilac colored silk.

"There!" said Luna, eyeing the lilac covering with approval. "That way, if anyone else is passing through here they won't notice it."

Ginny stared at the covering and was about to argue the obvious, but instead chose to shrug and hold her peace. Sometimes, Ginny thought as she and Luna once more began following the Doctor's trail, the 'obvious' just wasn't worth pointing out to Luna.

At last they stopped in the round entrance chamber whose walls framed about a dozen different doors. As Ginny closed the door behind them, the wall of doors began to spin, blurring in the blue torchlight. When they had at last stopped moving, the Doctor pulled out his Sonic Screwdriver and pointed it at each of the doors in turn, glancing down at the device.

"Ha!" he cried at the fifth or sixth door, holding up the Screwdriver. "This must be the entrance back into the Ministry. There's very little magical interference coming from it compared to the rest of them."

He slowly opened it and peered outside. "Yep, this is it."

Carefully keeping the exit open, the Doctor placed his glass gently on the ground and took off his tie. His eyes wandered the room for a moment before settling on the girls apologetically. "Not exactly where you were supposed to be, but I'm afraid it'll have to do."

Luna settled Ginny down next to the wall and then walked over to where the Doctor stood, undoing something from around her neck.

"I want you to have this," she said, holding out her butterbeer cork necklace to him, "it's my lucky charm, but I think that you'll need it more than I do."

To Ginny's surprise, the Doctor appeared to be quite touched by this unexpected gesture. Luna went on tiptoe and whispered something in the Doctor's ear and then patted his arm comfortingly.

He gently pocketed the necklace, gave her a wan smile and nodded before picking up his glass from off the floor and making his way towards the exit. Just before leaving he turned to look the room over one last time, as though to assure himself that everything was in its proper order. His eyes found Ginny and he hesitated.

"Oh, and Ginny," there was a hint of guilt in his voice as he continued, "anything I might've said earlier, out there in space, don't take it seriously. I know just as much about your future as anyone else's. I made it up – even the bit about the Marauder's Map."

Ginny gave him one of her steely looks, remembering the first time she'd met him and the conversation she'd had with Hermione at the beginning of the year. At last she grinned.

"Liar." she laughed weakly. "I know all about you."

The Doctor busied himself straightening up his trench coat, but Ginny was very sure he only meant to hide a smile.

"It was worth a try." replied the Doctor at last. "Let's just hope, for everyone's sake, that some people are more easily fooled." She couldn't help noting that an edge of bitterness had now entered his smile.

And leaving the Department of Mysteries the Doctor, Ginny was very sure, intentionally shut the door behind him. She leaned away from the wall as it began spinning again, mixing up the entrances once more, effectively destroying any hopes Ginny or Luna might have had of following him.

When the doors had ceased to move, Luna sat down next to Ginny, who was once more leaning on the wall, leaving only Ron standing. All they could do now was to wait for the others to arrive.

Ginny could feel her curiosity being eaten away by fatigue, but she mustered enough energy to try and pry the truth from Luna.

"It sounds like the Doctor wants to intercept Harry as he leaves the department." she said, hoping that Luna's reply would give some hint of what was going on and what Luna had whispered to the Doctor.

"Hmm?" said Luna, drifting out of whatever reverie she had been in.

"I said the Doctor is going to stop Harry, to protect him from something, right?"

"Oh," Luna hesitated, and then she replied more vaguely than usual, though Ginny had never seen her look less airy-fairy before, "yes, I suppose so. Yes, the Doctor is definitely trying to protect Harry…."

"The doctor?" cried Ron, interrupting Ginny's half-hearted attempt at an interrogation. "Doctor who? Ha ha!"

As Ron continued to blither on and Luna remained silent, Ginny felt that she would've gladly given the world to have her two companions' places switched.


	8. Chapter 8

Number 607 is in reference to the UK version of _Deathly Hallows_.

Part VIII

The Doctor, carrying his wineglass filled with grape juice in one hand and his tie and the TARDIS bag in the other quickly found the place he was looking for. It hadn't been in the book or even the film, but the Doctor had hoped there would be something like it here in the ministry anyways. It was a chamber filled with large white marble pillars. The pillars weren't really what mattered though. What interested the Doctor was the lovely hallway that led from the large room directly to the Fountain of Magical Brethren, located in the Ministry of Magic's atrium.

The Doctor found a place near the side entrance he'd used and, opening his TARDIS bag, left it where no one else would think to look for it, hopefully. It was one of the greatest gambles he had taken. If this didn't work, he was very sure Rose was going to strangle him personally.

After adjusting the knit bag several times, making sure that it was as open as possible, the Doctor closed his eyes, took a deep calming breath and began the last of his preparations, occasionally pulling out Luna's necklace for comfort. Just before he was due to make an appearance, the Doctor slid the necklace over his head and tucked it inside his shirt. Luna had been right; he was going to need all the luck he could get.

There was the rustle of a cloak as someone arrived in the atrium and then silence. He did not know he had arrived ten minutes too early, but Lord Voldemort would not have seen this as a problem in the same way the Doctor had.

All that Voldemort cared about at the moment was that his Death Eaters, whom he had sent to retrieve the prophecy, which he was certain would finally reveal the means of killing Potter, had not yet returned to him with it. The boy, he knew, was intelligent, but surely he could not be so clever as to manage to hold off the Dark Lord's most trusted servants for this long on his own.

He waited in the shadows of the atrium, where only his red eyes could be seen, certain that his Death Eaters would be arriving any moment, with the prophecy held up to him in triumph and Potter tied up and ready to be gotten rid of permanently.

Voldemort had been very reluctant to enter the Ministry premises, considering how conveniently everyone there had chosen to ignore his return. He wished to keep it that way a little while longer, to further cement his army before announcing to the world his return to full power. If he was to be spotted here, now, then the ruse would be over and the Ministry aurors would begin hunting down his followers. He would still defeat them, of course, but he didn't need the ministry's dogs nipping at his heels quite yet.

He had been waiting five minutes now for his servants, who did not appear to be coming. Lord Voldemort walked out of the shadows, yielding at last to the notion that his Death Eaters, his most faithful and trusted servants, had, in fact, been outwitted by a fifteen year old boy. He would go down to the Department of Mysteries and get rid of this nuisance himself once and for all.

As he walked past the Fountain of Magical Brethren, a mockery of wizarding principles in and of itself, he heard something above the senseless gurgling of the running water, a voice coming from a hallway within sight of the fountain. It was a voice, he decided, that needed silencing.

Ministry security must have been more lamentable than even he, Lord Voldemort, could have believed possible in any government, because this man certainly wasn't a ministry official. This man was a muggle and, by the look of his façade, a very inebriated one at that. He had a necktie wreathed around his messy brown hair and was holding a glass of what Voldemort immediately assumed was wine, spinning around and singing, in what could not have been a more off-key manner if he were trying, some useless song about dancing all night long.

Despite himself, Voldemort's curiosity was momentarily pricked by this pathetic man. Before dispatching him, Voldemort felt it was at least reasonable to discover how such a wretched piece of muggle refuse had managed to enter one of the Magical World's most top secret locations. There might even be more of them hiding in the ministry somewhere, whom he would shortly stomp out like the cockroaches they were.

"Are you lost?" he asked, pretending for the moment to care about the fate of the muggle filth.

It wasn't a very nice question. In the Doctor's experience, it translated roughly to 'is there anyone nearby to hear your screams?' The Doctor stopped dancing and acted as though he'd only just notice the pale man in robes who stood in front of him.

"Lost? Me? No," said the Doctor as he looked the place over blearily, ignoring every survival instinct he possessed, "no, just – just really not sure where I am, that's all. One minute I was at a party, something about a cab…. Oh, right, tried phoning a cab in this old telephone booth and – you won' believe it – the thing starts talking to me and – whoosh! – here I am! Or something like that, not quite sure which order things happened in, though…." the Doctor almost tripped on himself for good measure before adding, "I like what you done with the place, bit dark, though…."

Voldemort, paler than even the Doctor had imagined, was sneering. "I see, so you are alone Mister…."

Voldemort peered at the badge on the Doctor's trench coat which the Doctor realized, too late, was similar to the name badges given to all persons visiting the Ministry of Magic.

"Mr. _Spew_?" Voldemort smirked. As he looked up from the badge to the Doctor's face his red eyes showed nothing but contempt. "A suitable name for you."

There were some things in the universe that the Doctor had to draw the line at. Being called 'Mr. Spew' by Lord Voldemort, he now realized, was one of them. "Actually, it's S.P.E.W. and it stands for the **S**ociety for the **P**rotection of - of **E**nglish **W**etlands." he invented hurriedly.

Voldemort raised what should have been an eyebrow. "**E**nglish **W**etlands?"

The Doctor shrugged with a calculated tipsiness. "Yeah, it was either that or **A**nglican **M**oorlands, but me and the lads figured that'd be copyright -"

"Do you know who I am, filthy muggle?" Voldemort demanded while making a half-hearted attempt at legilimency. The Doctor hit himself on the forehead, feigning recollection and, at the same time, dispelling any real ones from his mind. The most he thought was that he should at least really _deserve_ what was coming next. He pointed at Voldemort excitedly.

"It's you!" he babbled. "You - you're my favorite! You are the best, you know why? Cause you're so thick! You're mister thick thickity thick face from thicktown thickannia. And so is your dad! "

He could see Voldemort's hand twitching towards his wand. "And do you even know who _you_ are?"

The Doctor theatrically reflected on this.

"Nope," he concluded cheerfully, "haven't got a clue."

The Doctor took a swig of the grape juice, which felt like swallowing ice, and laughed stupidly. "Mind giving me a lift back home? Speaking of lifts," he continued, "looks like you got a bit of a lift of your own, what around the nose and cheeks and under the chin and such."

Voldemort may not have known anything about cosmetic surgery, but he certainly understood the general message. His snakelike nostrils flared. "You are nothing but a fool. Killing you would be seen as service to the world."

It was coming. The Doctor hid his momentary lapse in drunkenness by swigging down the last remnants of the blood red liquid from his cup and then tossing it over his shoulder. It shattered on the ministry floor. "It isn't the first time someone's told me that."

"I fear that it will be the last time, however." replied Voldemort quietly, clearly savoring these last few moments of mortal company. "You are going to make a lovely snack for my snake Nagini."

"Did you just say snack twice?" the Doctor bit his lip, allowing comprehension to slowly dawn on his face. "Oh, I see, you said snake, like a great, big, Monty Python. No, I don't think I'd like that very much…."

"Goodbye muggle." said Voldemort calmly, pulling out his want and pointing it at the Doctor. "_Avada Kedavra_!"

The Doctor died instantly.

Voldemort watched as the face stiffened up and his dull companion fell backwards, hitting the Ministry's floor with a thud. Gravity pulled the points of his canvas shoes to the ground, where they remained still. The room was quiet.

Voldemort looked on at a job well done, then, remembering his purpose for coming to the ministry, turned back towards the Fountain of Magical Brethren to await the arrival of his Death Eaters with the prophecy. The fact that they had not met him at headquarters earlier was beginning to deeply concern him….

A noise instantly made the Dark Lord spin around, wand at the ready, his eyes searching the room at large. But all was still. He made to turn again but then the noise resumed, this time more audible, more clearly a sound which Voldemort's ears could not believe. He looked down at the still corpse warily, only it wasn't still any longer.

There was a groan.

"Ow, my head!" muttered the corpse and, much to Voldemort's horror, the Doctor slowly sat up, gripping his skull. Voldemort's mouth fell open as he watched the Doctor begin to take the tie from off his head. When their eyes met, Voldemort could see that the man on the floor was grinning at him.

"Oh, don't worry," he said pleasantly, answering Voldemort's unasked question, "it's just the back of the head. At least I think so…."

He finished removing the tie and rubbed a hand against his forehead anyway. "Nope, we're fine. That would've complicated things, believe me…. Would've had to stay around for part seven and, frankly, I'd rather not."

The man stood up and began putting his tie in its proper place. He rubbed the back of his head again and looked down at the hard stone floor regretfully. "If I had known it would be that fast, I would've brought a pillow or something…. Still, I've had worse…."

Unconsciously, Voldemort's hand sought its mate, discovering that both were still incased in flesh. He was not a shade… at least that was better than the last time. Still, he was perplexed. The only other time a killing curse had failed him was when he'd first tried to murder Harry.

"How did you survive?" Voldemort asked himself quietly.

The Doctor had also started clutching his own hands, wincing in pain. "Oh, no I am dead – well, technically I'm a bit more in between at the moment – _stay back!_"

The Doctor held out a hand in warning as Voldemort took a step towards him. Just before the Doctor could pull the hand back, however, Voldemort had caught sight of a golden light spreading around it.

"What magic is this?" Voldemort hissed as the Doctor doubled over, groaning, a golden aura engulfing him. Voldemort took a step back, holding up his wand arm to shield his eyes.

"What are you doing?" Voldemort screeched.

"Please," the Doctor looked up at Voldemort, panting, his face now radiating the golden light, "could you just give me a moment of silence, out of respect for the dead? Thank you."

With that, the Doctor suddenly bent backwards with his arms outstretched and, for lack of better words, burst into flames. And then he did something he had never done before….

At the last second, the Doctor straightened up, clasped his hands together and, pointing them directly at the knitted bag, released all of his regenerative energy at once. The energy shot into the object he'd hidden inside of it, a container housing the Doctor's hand, the one he'd lost shortly after his previous regeneration.

The regenerative energy now glowed around the contained hand. The Doctor didn't even have to feel his face or look into a mirror to know his gamble had paid off. He was still the same Doctor he had been before. When Luna had whispered to him that 'death is not the end,' she'd had no idea how right she would be. It had worked! It had _actually_ worked!

The Doctor raised his current right hand to the back of his head, grinning. "I suppose there are some benefits to dying; at least I won't have a bruise on the back of my head now."

There was a light popping noise from the direction of the TARDIS bag, which now lay completely empty. Perhaps, thought the Doctor briefly, the hand had been a onetime use only kind of object. He wanted to investigate the matter further, but at the moment he had far more pressing business to attend to. He pocketed both of his hands and turned his attentions back to the startled Dark Lord. Even now, Voldemort was beginning to recover; his eyes previously full of fear were now filled with hunger.

"How did you do that?" he whispered eagerly.

"Oh, it's sort of like magic, you know." said the Doctor off-handedly. "Now, I wouldn't try killing me again, if I were you. Might end up having a repeat of Halloween night, oh, roughly sixteen years ago, turning you back into a very grumpy shade."

"How would killing you again kill me?"

The Doctor shook his head clearly disappointed by the Dark Lord. "You have so many questions, yet you put so little thought into any of them. I'm still regenerating, which means any killing curse you throw at me is going to rebound on you." he waved and began to leave the room. "Anyway, nice chatting with you, Tom. Don't live too long!"

Voldemort was already pointing his wand at the Doctor's retreating back.

"I do not think you are going anywhere – _Incarcerous!_"

The Doctor had just passed one of the room's large columns when the back of his head suddenly collided with it as the thick cords Voldemort sent from his wand pulled him back, tightening mercilessly around him and the pillar. His head began aching again, but he couldn't risk using the last of his regenerative energy to make it stop. He'd need it just in case Voldemort was actually stupid enough to try and kill him again.

"You are correct, of course. I did not ask you the _right_ questions," said Voldemort, stepping into the Doctor's range of vision, smiling, "but I certainly know how to get the _right_ answers."

"Why did you do that?" the Doctor grumbled. "I'd just gotten rid of that bruise!"

Voldemort crouched down next to the Doctor, pointing his wand casually at the Doctor's chest. "Who are you?"

"I'm not a fan of your wand pointing at me."

Voldemort laughed mirthlessly. "You think you are so clever? But not as clever as Lord Voldemort."

"What is it with you and speaking in the third person Tom? Almost sounds like you're trying to reassure yourself -" the wand was now digging into the Doctor's chest, but the Doctor only looked up at Voldemort and said, with absolute solemnity, "You get one warning."

Voldemort laughed again. "Such bravery from a man who is in no position to barter for his own life, let alone to threaten mine. I admire bravery, but do not let it slip into stupidity. It is _you_ who will receive only one warning. If you do not humble yourself now and answer my questions, you will understand the wrath of Lord Voldemort."

"So, if I give you my name, you'll just let me go? Is that it?" asked the Doctor with mock curiosity.

"No," said Voldemort, whose curiosity seemed to be consuming him, "I must know how you, a poor excuse for a man, could possibly defy Lord Voldemort and live."

"Well, it's so easy, even a baby could do it!" the Doctor retorted.

Voldemort's face twisted into a sneer. "That was not how the boy survived. His mother died to protect him. It is one of the oldest forms of magic, one that is weak. You on the other hand," the red eyes shone with the desire for immortality, "you are like a phoenix; you die and then rise again in flames. How?"

"Do you want to know what my secret is?" the Doctor asked, looking pityingly into Voldemort's greed-filled eyes. "My real secret, Tom, is this: I care! I care so much that, when there is no other choice, and no other way to save someone, I would die for them, Tom! I may be a poor excuse for a man, but I am certainly a greater man than you'll ever be, unless you change. Unless you change and allow yourself to be human again, your next fall from power will be far greater than your first one. I used to be somewhat like you Tom, but then I saw what was happening to me and I changed. So can you, if you'll stop this right now."

"You, like me?" Voldemort looked at the Doctor in disgust. "You, a scrawny man whose only magical talent is to extend his own life, like me?"

"I'm much older than I look, Tom."

"I think your time to freely give me what I want…" Voldemort paused, allowing the calm of his voice to emphasize the cruelty of his words, "is over."

Voldemort stood up and looked thoughtfully at the Doctor, calculating where best to hurt him.

"You care so much, do you?" he smiled, aiming his wand directly over the space where a human's single heart would reside. "_Crucio." _

It was a one in a million chance for Voldemort. The spell hit both of the Doctor's hearts at once. It was worse than the regeneration, worse, in fact, than almost anything the Doctor had yet experienced. One of his hearts gave out, the other was on the verge of cardiac arrest. Then the spell stopped and the last of his regenerative energy found its way to his hearts and began repairing the damage. The first heart began to flutter weakly.

The Doctor was struggling to remain conscious. He could hear the rustling of a cloak as Voldemort bent down over him and whispered in his ear. "Was it worth it?"

The Doctor opened his eyes, but didn't have the strength to lift his head.

"Now then, Doctor, is it?" at this, the Doctor tried to lift his head again, but failed. Voldemort genuinely laughed. "Do not look so surprised. Surely, you did not believe that my only skill is to inflict pain? Pain is only an avenue into the recesses of another's mind, a door that, once stepped through, leads to hidden truths. I will admit that your mastery of occlumency has thus far blinded me to your true importance, but no longer. Oh yes, you let your defenses down and I was able to penetrate your mind. I know several of your secrets now, though not the ones I was looking for… yet."

A bone white finger pressed itself against the Doctor's chest, causing him to wince. "Two hearts… it must be such a burden. And the last of your kind, as well." Voldemort removed his finger from the Doctor's chest, replacing it with the tip of his equally pale wand. "Now, would you like to tell me freely what I want, or do you insist that I extract it from you."

The Doctor shook his head weakly.

"No." he whispered. At this, Voldemort placed a cold finger under the Doctor's chin, lifting the Doctor's head up and studying his face intently.

"You would have done well in Gryffindor. You have died once tonight and then you almost died a second time and yet I have not once heard you scream…." said Voldemort admiringly. "However, even you must know that you cannot defy Lord Voldemort forever. No, I am not foolish enough to kill you because you would only regenerate, but I will push you to the brink of death and keep you there until my demands are satisfied. It is not a question of if, but of when you will give in. You will teach me your secret to immortality. Do I make myself clear, Doctor?"

The Doctor met Voldemort's gaze. "Your lifetime isn't forever to me, Tom."

Voldemort let the Doctor's head fall back down and stood up. "Well then, my foolhardy phoenix, it appears that I will have to teach you some manners. Your mind might break under strain. I wouldn't know, I have never had the pleasure of torturing someone who is 900 years old before. Cruc-"

"_Crucio!"_ it was not Voldemort's voice that sent the curse reverberating through the vaulted ceilings. Voldemort stopped, turning in the direction of the other voice. It was a younger voice, a voice that could only belong to one person….

"_Potter!_" Voldemort hissed vehemently.

Down the hall at the Fountain of Magical Brethren they could see Harry crouching with his wand still outstretched towards a stricken Bellatrix Lestrange. The Doctor managed to look up at Voldemort who seemed torn for a moment between his desires for immortality and those to put an end to Harry's life.

They could barely make out what Bellatrix was saying to Harry until…

"LIAR!" shrieked Bellatrix, terror and anger emanating from her voice. "YOU'VE GOT IT, POTTER, AND YOU WILL GIVE IT TO ME - _Accio Prophecy_! _ACCIO PROPHECY!_"

"What will it be, Tom?" the Doctor whispered hoarsely, raising his head just high enough to peer into Voldemort's red eyes.

"Surely I do not have to choose," replied Voldemort coolly, "it will take all of one moment to kill the boy. I will be back, I assure you."

And with that Voldemort disapparated, only to apparate moments later next to Bellatrix who was now pleading with him.

"MASTER, I TRIED, I TRIED - DO NOT PUNISH ME -"

Harry, who was not facing them was shouting, "Don't waste your breathe! He can't hear you from here!"

"Can't I Potter?" came Voldemort's cold reply.

The Doctor smiled. He was finished. Everything had been put right again. All was well - well, not all was _well_, Harry was about to be killed by Voldemort, but, overall, that was fairly normal for them….

And with those thoughts, amidst the sounds of Voldemort beginning his duel with Dumbledore, who had indeed arrived in the nick of time, the Doctor finally lost consciousness….

The first thing the Doctor became aware of was the smell of tea… _Earl Grey?_ he wondered. He sniffed again. _Yes, Earl Grey, no cream, no sugar, hold the - the_….

"Oh, no!" the Doctor sat bolt upright as the rest of his senses caught up with his nose, suddenly aware that he was in an underground room which was, in fact, a dungeon.

A hand pushed him back into, what he realized, was a makeshift bed. He tried getting up again, but the same hand restrained him. Slowly, his eyes took in the small details which his other senses had not. A fireplace lit the otherwise dark room, reflecting off the hundreds of glass bottles that lined the walls and outlining a familiar shape that stood near the bed.

"Severus?" the Doctor said weakly. Snape was not exactly a sight anyone dreamed of waking up to, except for perhaps a very few, but the alternatives he'd been entertaining moments before were far worse.

"I see that you have decided to join us in the land of the living after all." replied Snape coolly. "Do you have any idea how many different types of potions I have had to use to try and revive you?"

"Next time just stick with the tea. If that doesn't work, I don't think anything would." answered the Doctor, rubbing his chest. His hearts still hurt from Voldemort's Cruciatus curse, but the regenerative energy seemed likely to restore them to nearly full health. "How did I get here, anyway?"

"And whose pyjamas am I wearing?" he added, pulling at the collar of the stripped top he now found himself in. Snape was about to answer, but the Doctor cut him off. "Wait, no, never mind. I'm going to assume they came from the hospital wing. Just tell me how I got here."

Assured that the Doctor wasn't about to try running off again, Snape had sat down and was absently inspecting the freshly brewed tea inside his cup, possibly wondering what medicinal qualities it contained. At last, seeming to conclude that the Doctor must have been joking about the tea, Snape shook his head and set it down before speaking. "After the headmaster arrived at the Department of Mysteries Miss Lovegood had the sense to inform him that you'd gone off on your own, as a decoy. When you were found unconscious, the minister insisted that you be put in St. Mungo's at once."

"Yes, but then how did I get _here_, exactly?" said the Doctor, beginning to sit up, pointing down at the makeshift bed.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Professor Dumbledore checked your pulse and realized that, although it was still weak, there was more than one. He assumed that it would be best if I handled the situation, to prevent you from causing general alarm and…."

"'And' what?" the Doctor asked suspiciously.

Snape folded his arms. "The Dark Lord has sent word to his servants that if you are sighted by anyone, aside from myself, you are to be brought to him directly _at all costs_."

The Doctor smiled, sitting up a bit straighter.

"Well, good thing I'm on my way out anyways…." though Snape's face had remained placid, there was something in the momentary glint of his eyes to suggest that, though the Potions master was hiding something, he wasn't trying very hard. The Doctor could feel his own smile slowly fading.

"Right, Severus?" he said. "They _did_ find my TARDIS, didn't they?"

Snape looked into the recesses of his fireplace before speaking. "The headmaster gave them a basic description of your machine, but the ministry officials fear that it may have been pulled into the black hole that you, Miss Lovegood and the Weasleys managed to create in the Department of Mysteries."

"But I thought that was contained in the space room?" said the Doctor desperately.

"It spread." Snape replied simply, taking another sip of his Earl Grey. "Once they realized that to study the new phenomenon, they might be quite literally absorbed by their work, the Unspeakables were forced to invite ministry officials inside the department to help them contain it."

The Doctor allowed himself to fall back into the makeshift bed, rubbing his face with his hands as the news sank in. Without the TARDIS he couldn't go back to his world. Oh, he'd be able to enter and exit the world where Rose and Mickey were waiting for him (until the warp engines failed, that is) but he could never really go back. Not to _his_ world. He would be the last – well, _anything_ left from his home planet. There would only himself… and Rose. At least he would still have her, though he might have to drag her from the spaceship and into this world. And that was if it even existed after the warp cores went.

The Doctor felt a feather-light weight suddenly on top of his chest and looked up into the eyes of a very pathetic looking baby bird. As far as baby birds were concerned, this one was particularly ugly. It was about the size of a duckling and had just about as many feathers as the average Christmas turkey. But, for all of its apparent physical disadvantages, its eyes shone with remarkable intelligence. It tilted its small head, its beak mere inches away from the Doctor's nose.

"Fawkes?" he said at last, staring at the phoenix which, when he'd last seen it, had been a beautiful adult bird with scarlet and gold plumage.

Upon hearing the Doctor say its name, the birdling cooed happily, teleporting out of the room in a small puff of flame. Though he'd long ago grown accustomed to things blowing up in his face, it took the Doctor a moment to gather his thoughts and pick up the tiny baby bird feather that Fawkes had left on his chest. Snape took the downy feather, which looked remarkably like red lint, from the Doctor and examined it casually.

"It seems that we are to be expecting a visit from the headmaster." explained Snape, tossing the lint-sized feather back to the Doctor and conjuring up two more teacups and filling them both. Snape handed one to the Doctor, who sat up and took it reluctantly. Earl Grey was always a particularly unpredictable taste sensation for each new regeneration the Doctor underwent, sometimes wonderful and other times quite dreadful depending on his new tastebuds. This would be the first time since before he'd met Rose and regenerated last that Earl Grey had touched his lips.

Hesitantly, the Doctor placed the rim of the cup next to his lips. He took a meager sip and immediately started coughing. It was exceedingly bitter, like black licorice gone to the dark side. Admittedly, he wasn't sure that the Earl Grey was to blame for the unusual taste this time round. More likely, something had simply gone wrong while Snape was making it.

Eyes still watering, but not ready to lecture its maker on the fine art of preparing tea, the Doctor forced himself to allow a tiny bit more to enter his mouth.

When Dumbledore arrived, the Doctor promptly replaced his cup on the saucer and greeted the headmaster. Snape offered Dumbledore the second cup, which Dumbledore graciously took, sitting down in a chair near the Doctor's bedside. Though Dumbledore promptly thanked Snape for the tea, the Doctor could see that, underneath his snowy white beard, Dumbledore's nose wrinkled as he drank it. After Snape had excused himself from the room and when Dumbledore was sure that Snape was absolutely out of earshot, the headmaster looked into the contents of his teacup with mild distaste.

"Dear me, Severus always does seem to leave the teabags in too long." Dumbledore lamented, conjuring up a lovely teapot with pink roses on it and a matching sugar pot. There was also a plate with a few biscuits on it. "I have never really understood how a man so precise as a potioneer could not manage to be so precise in other areas of his life. He always tends to let things simmer too long…."

Dumbledore sighed, apparently lost in thought as he poured the Doctor and himself a cup of tea from his own teapot. "Chamomile?"

"Don't mind if I do." beamed the Doctor, trading the bitter cup for a sweeter one.

"I see that you, like Fawkes, are looking much the worse for wear." said Dumbledore genially.

"I don't look _that_ bad!" cried the Doctor in an injured tone, remembering the featherless phoenix.

"I only meant to say that the two of you have both seen better days." responded the headmaster calmly. "He was also the recipient of a killing curse last night. How are you feeling?"

"Better." the Doctor relaxed, looking down into the contents of his teacup reflectively. "Severus said that they haven't found my TARDIS."

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, I am afraid that neither the Ministry Officials nor the department's Unspeakables have found it yet. However, they have had a rather busy start to their day. Though I am not speaking from personal experience, I would imagine that fighting the likes of a black hole and having to come to grips with Lord Voldemort's return at the same time might lead normally competent men to be less than thorough in their searches. Perhaps, in a few days' time, we shall hear word of that wonderful blue box of yours."

"Thanks."

"What amazes me most, Doctor," said Dumbledore, putting down his cup and steepling his hands, staring at the Doctor intently, "is that, while knowing the future as I am sure you do, you chose not to wait inside the Department of Mysteries, but instead tried to intercept Harry and his friends before they left."

The Doctor bit into a biscuit guiltily as Dumbledore continued. "There are only two reasons why a man such as yourself would have made such a risk. Either he was trying to stop them from leaving the school grounds, which seems unlikely, considering that there are many far easier ways available to do so, or he was trying to prove to himself, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that not even he could have saved Sirius Black. Am I right, Doctor?"

The Doctor shifted uncomfortably. "I knew it was impossible. It was an established event, and – and it would've changed everything. But I couldn't, not in good conscious, choose to do nothing…. I mean, I had to at least try to stop it from happening. Sirius meant everything to Harry and I couldn't bear the thought of -"

"Choosing not to save Harry any more pain than he has already experienced." Dumbledore finished sadly. "You would rather have failed miserably in preventing such a tragedy than to simply have stood back and let it happen."

Dumbledore looked much older now, thinking, as the Doctor was sure he was, about his recent 'discussion' with Harry about the prophecy. "It is a great affliction for those of us who destiny has chosen to bear such things. To know that you can never take on another's load, but are cursed to add heavier burdens instead of comfort, even if they are truths, is, I think, the cruelest task there is in all the universe. A task left to old men, whose hearts are more likely to break from the strain of giving rather than the receiving of such things."

The Doctor sighed. "Yeah."

Dumbledore nodded. "I would have done the same, Doctor. Believe me, I would have done the same."

There was a long pause between them before Dumbledore started to speak again. "I think that Lord Voldemort, especially after tonight, will eagerly be looking for ways to relieve of the burden that is life. Though I am beginning to look forward to that grand adventure into the beyond, I am deeply troubled. I fear that I have left Harry's training to the last minute and there are still many things he has yet to learn. I am worried, for his sake, about how much time I have left."

It was a question that the Doctor would have ordinarily left unanswered. People, humans in particular, had a tendency to avoid death to the destruction of everyone else around them. However, as the Doctor looked into Dumbledore's blue eyes, he could almost hear the words the headmaster had once used to explain death to an eleven year old Harry. He made up his mind.

"About a year." he said at last.

Dumbledore looked resigned. "I assumed that something like that would be the case, though I did at one point in my already long life hope to live to see the day I turned one hundred and seventy-five years old. The vain wishes of a young man and, I'm afraid, an older one alike."

"I've heard it said that life begins at a hundred and seventy-five." said the Doctor, sipping his tea.

"Really? And what do you think?" Dumbledore asked, traces of amusement began to enter his careworn face once more.

The Doctor shrugged. "Oh, I think that life begins when you're born. Survive that and you can survive just about anything else the universe wishes to throw at you."

Dumbledore shook his head, smiling. "I do have to say that I will miss these little chats of ours when you've gone and flown away from here."

"And I'll miss whistling 'We're Off to See the Wizard' whenever I'm summoned to your office." the Doctor added.

"Oh, is that what that tune was. A most amusing title." mused Dumbledore before growing serious once more. "There is still one more matter that I wish to discuss with you before I return you to the most competent care of Severus. I wish to ask of you a small favor, not simply as a colleague, but I hope, as a friend."

Dumbledore produced a roll of parchment from his robes and handed it to the Doctor. "I was thinking of making this minor change to my will, in light of my ever impending mortality. Do you think it is possible?"

The Doctor read the will and frowned, his brows knitting together. "I don't know that I can…."

"If it were to be a choice to leave then there is, in fact, nothing being stolen from this world, especially if he has already played his part in it." Dumbledore reasoned calmly. "The Time Turners could never have chosen to freely leave this small world of ours."

The Doctor was about to argue further, but changed his mind. "Fluffy did manage to turn up in my world…." he conceded. "I suppose I could give it a try if I have time and if it is truly what he wants in the end."

Dumbledore smiled as the Doctor gave him back the roll of parchment. "Thank you. I could not have asked for a kinder ending than that."

"It really has been an honor to meet you, sir." beamed the Doctor, stretching out his hand to Dumbledore.

"The honor, Doctor, is mine." replied Dumbledore, shaking the Doctor's hand firmly. "Now get some rest. We can't allow you to go wandering off before you've made a full recovery, can we?"

After removing the rose tea set with a wave of his wand, Dumbledore made his way to the door, stopping as his hand rested on the doorknob, he turned back to the Doctor.

"Oh, and incidentally," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled mischievously, "it seems that congratulations are in order."

The Doctor sipped his tea. "Really? What for?"

"The Minister of Magic was quite baffled by your presence on Ministry premises last night. Thankfully, Severus was able to put the Minister's mind at ease on the matter, informing him that, at the school, you were rumored to have inherited your great-grandmother Cassandra Trelawney's gifts for Divination."

The Doctor choked and quickly set his cup down, while Dumbledore continued to smile at him. "I am sure that Sybil will be quite pleased to hear the news."

As Dumbledore left Snape slid back into the room, smirking. "Shall I inform your dear cousin that you will be making a full recovery? I am sure that, as your next of kin, she is dying to know how you are. Family ties are so important, don't you agree John?"

"Oh, shut up Severus." said the Doctor, taking a bite out of one of the biscuits Dumbledore had left behind for him.

The time that the Doctor spent in recovery over the next day or two was, like all recovery times, rather boring. There was nothing to do but sit in bed and think about his missing TARDIS. Which meant that he rarely sat in bed at all, instead busying himself with grading exams. Though most of the work was dull, there was the occasional answer that was so completely wrong that it kept him laughing long into the next stack of papers. The third years seemed to have a particular knack for fascinating misspellings, never quite managing to spell words like 'automobile' or even 'plugs' without a few extra syllables.

Then there had been Luna's exam. Though she had never been an official member of the class, she had arrived as promptly as usual on the day of the exam, at the end of which she handed in five or six dazzlingly original water colorings of her fellow classmates. If she weren't a witch, he'd have recommended she attend art school instead of Hogwarts.

In between grading sessions, there were a few visitors, but with so many changes in the wizarding world and at Hogwarts, most everyone else was busy. If they weren't busy grading papers of their own, the staff were silencing fears about Voldemort attacking the school or busily rounding up students, ordering them to go outside and play instead of snogging each other in the secret passages.

As the last week of term drew to a close, the Doctor found himself standing more and more at his window, watching the bare patch of land in the Forbidden Forest where his TARDIS once stood, wondering if he'd ever see it again. He had decided to wait until the very last day of term before going back to the spaceship and bringing Rose and Mickey to Hogwarts. The chance that this place might still exist after the warp engines died was at least better than their present options aboard the spaceship.

Two days before the end of term feast, however, something did happen to break up the Doctor's mood. As he sat at the head table in the Great Hall, staring absently into the night sky of the Hogwarts' ceilings, there was a commotion outside the Great Hall, followed by the voice of a woman screaming.

The eyes of everyone inside the Great Hall were now glued to the large double doors where Filch suddenly burst in from, holding his unholy cat and shuffling his legs for all their worth. A few steps more and he stopped, wheezing and letting Mrs. Norris land gracefully onto the stone floors where she prowled about as usual.

"It's Peeves! He's attacking the headmistress! " even gasping for air, Filch seemed to have realized that he'd overstepped his bounds and added, eyeing Dumbledore. "Meaning former headmistress, of course, headmaster, begging your pardon, sir. Peeves is chasing her with a walking stick!"

The Doctor could see McGonagall, who was sitting next to him, looking oddly self-satisfied and without her walking stick which she'd had to use after Umbridge's attack on her the week before. Seeing that the Doctor had indeed connected the dots, McGonagall shrugged and looked up innocently at the ceiling. The Doctor winked at her and she gave him a whole-hearted smile as Filch continued.

"And there's Members of the Ministry that say they've brought a blue box that -" but the rest of what Filch had to say was drowned out by the torrent of students, who as one body, had gotten out of their seats and were running towards the Great Hall's double doors, eager to watch their ex-headmistress's disgraceful departure. Only Mrs. Norris's hissing could be heard above the clamor as she tried not to be stomped on.

"He's leaving," whispered Hermione, rising up from her seat, watching as the Doctor in one movement stood up and began to run towards the doors as well. She, Ron, Ginny and Harry followed the crowd, breaking off from it just outside the doors of the Great Hall and racing towards the Doctor's fading footsteps. Though it shouldn't really have surprised her, Luna had joined in the pursuit as well.

Ron, noticing that Hermione was having difficulty keeping up, quickly grabbed her hand and pulled her onwards. Hermione gripped his hand gratefully and tried to continue running, but had to slow down a bit to catch her breath. She still hadn't fully recovered from the unknown spell that Dolohov had cast on her in the Department of Mysteries

Hermione was about to beg him to give her a breather when she heard the rasping sound of the TARDIS beginning to transport. She hurried on desperately behind Ron.

Following the noise, they reached the courtyard where Ginny, who had run ahead them, was standing in front of the familiar blue box. Strands of her red hair flowed in the gentle breeze of the TARDIS's departure. She stepped back, shielding her face as the breeze became a small gust of wind.

Hermione caught one last glimpse of the TARDIS before it disappeared. The Doctor was gone. She let her hand slip from Ron's and leaned against a stone archway, trying not to allow tears to enter her eyes, but her eyes became misty anyways. She sniffed.

Ron put a gentle hand on her shoulder as Luna and then Harry finally caught up with them.

"All I wanted to do was to say goodbye." Hermione admitted quietly, sniffing again, suddenly embracing Ron. Ron was too shocked to do much of anything about this, but after a few moments, he awkwardly returned the hug.

Someone began tugging at Hermione's sleeve. She glanced around and found Luna, who was pointing at the clearing in what, for her, passed for excitement.

"Hermione!" Ginny called out, pointing to where the TARDIS had stood, only it was standing there again, gone and at last back for good. The door creaked open and the Doctor stepped outside, beaming at them.

"Miss me?" he said.

Hermione nearly burst into tears as she and the other girls went in for a group hug, encasing the Doctor. "I thought you had gone and left without saying goodbye!"

"Oh, I don't really like 'goodbyes.'" began the Doctor, running his hand through his hair like Hermione had seen him do thousands of times before, "I'd much rather simply disappear, but I have some unfinished business to attend to, and this will be my last chance to speak with you lot…."

"What were you doing, then, when you left earlier?" Hermione asked.

"Packing." he said. "Left a lot of my belongings in my bedroom in the castle." the girls had at last let go and were now all looking up at him.

"That was quick." noted Ginny.

"Yeah, having a time machine does speed up the process significantly. By the way, how is that Achilles' heel of yours?" he asked her.

She grinned. "Much improved thanks to Madame Pomfrey."

The Doctor sniffed, looking suddenly confused. "The smell of dust after rain…."

He stared at Ginny disbelievingly. "Petrichor? You're wearing a perfume that smells like _Petrichor_?"

Ginny regarded the Doctor with an eyebrow raised. "Hermione's parents sent it to her last Christmas. She didn't want it, so she gave it to me instead. Why?"

He looked as though she had somehow cheated him. "Aren't you supposed to be wearing something more, I don't know, _flowery_? I mean, I suppose it could have been mistaken for something flowery by an amateur such as Har- Err…." The Doctor cleared his throat, quickly moving his eyes away from Harry and looking down again at Ginny.

"It's nice." he managed. "Unique. Suits you. Might prove useful in the long run." he finished lamely.

Ginny eyed him suspiciously.

"You know," she began casually, "the real reason Hermione gave it to me was because of the slogan: _For the Girl Who is Tired of Waiting_."

The Doctor, though apparently transfixed by the stone paving beneath his feet, was having difficulty keeping a straight face. He coughed once or twice. Ginny smiled and let the matter rest, seemingly satisfied. Hermione suspected that the Doctor had only just stopped himself from naming Harry as the amateur perfume connoisseur in question.

She also could have sworn she heard Ginny mutter "The old liar".

"Anyway," said the Doctor, turning to Hermione once more, "I had to return this to you."

He took a book from out of his trench coat and handed it to her. It was older now, filled with the Doctor's scribbles and sticky notes, not to mention several crossed out passages (some of which were several pages long) but there was no mistaking it. It was the copy of _So You Think You Can Understand Time_ that she'd borrowed for him in her third year, when they were traveling together.

She bit her lip, "Thanks."

"Sorry if it's a bit overdue…. I don't even want to know what the two year late fine would be like."

"That's okay," said Hermione quickly, certain that the book would have a permanent place in her private collection at home, "I paid Madame Pince for it years ago. I didn't expect you to actually bring it back."

The Doctor winced theatrically before turning to Luna and handing her the butterbeer cork necklace she'd let him borrow at the Department. "Thanks, I really needed that."

"And," he said, rummaging through his pockets, producing a small silver box and handing it to Ginny, "this is for you. I never really did like endings, but I never had the heart to rip this page out. I think you'll know what to do with it."

Ginny opened the box briefly, just to see what was inside. From what Hermione managed to catch a glimpse of, it contained only a folded piece of paper with the page number 607 showing. Ginny immediately shut the box, grinning at the Doctor.

Hermione sighed and put on the bravest face she could. "I know you can't stay, but I really wish you could. I'll miss you, Doctor."

"Hermione," he smiled at her warmly, "whenever you want to find me, I'll be in the library. I'm a library man now. Spent most of my weekends here travelling all over space and time. Just look in a book and, when you least expect it, I might just be there on the page waiting for you."

"And speaking of books," he dug once more into his trench coat and pulled out what looked like a rolled up magazine. "Since you didn't really get to enjoy your visit in the TARDIS, Ron, I spoke with a woman, Travesty Jones, I think -"

"Travesty Jones?" cried Ron, perking up immensely. "You don't mean _the_ Travesty Jones, do you? But she's the author of Martin Miggs, the -"

"Mad Muggle." the Doctor finished. "The very same. Nice woman, tends to get a bit jumpy around actual muggles, though. Only, she has a new series coming out, partly autobiographical from what I hear. It's about an exceptionally mad muggle, in a box, traveling through time."

He handed Ron what Hermione realized was a comic book entitled _Adventures With the Maddest Muggle of Them All! _and underneath was captioned _Pulling Merlin's Beard_.

"Oh, and incidentally Hermione," he continued, "yes a version of that would be in _Hogwarts, A History_, only it's slightly different. A bit more dignified and, sadly, a bit further from the truth as a result."

"Harry," the Doctor called out quietly, at last turning his attentions to the boy standing alone outside of the circle of friends, "the best thing that I can give you right now is to let you know that, when this is all over, you'll be happy one day, more so than you've ever been in your life."

Harry nodded mutely.

The Doctor gave them one last smile and then re-entered the TARDIS, shutting the door behind him. For one moment everything remained still, and then the Police Public Call Box began to phase in and out of the courtyard, disappearing from Hermione's view forever.

"How was it?" Rose asked impatiently, hugging the Doctor after he had returned to the spacechip.

"It was alright…." said the Doctor casually, returning the hug. "Umbridge was a pain, but otherwise, nothing special happened."

"You've got to be kidding me!" cried Mickey. "You mean to tell us that we've been waiting around in an abandoned spaceship, with no food, for ten hours, being guarded by a mad three-headed dog so that _'nothing special'_ could happen?!"

The Doctor reflected on this. "Yeah, that about sums it up."

"You'll get used to it." muttered Rose to Mickey, elbowing him and receiving an elbow in turn.

"But at least, like you said, you did get a 'spaceship on your first go.'" added the Doctor optimistically, walking over to the scanners and gazing fixedly at the energy levels on its screen.

"Yeah," grumbled Mickey, "but that was hours ago and I imagined it actually having food on board!"

The Doctor must have found what he was looking for, quickly glancing up from the screen and giving them a cheerful smile. "Seems we have enough time, about twenty minutes left, for a little bit more of 'nothing special' to happen. That is, if you two want to come along."

"I could do with 'nothing special,'" beamed Rose, "what about you Mickey?"

Mickey gaped at the Doctor. "Do you mean you're going to take us into the Harry Potter world."

"Yeah, unless you want to stay here search this place for a wardrobe leading to Narnia. Though if you do decide to do that, send my regards to Aslan. In the meantime, however," said the Doctor, walking over to the TARDIS and opening a door invitingly, "ready?"

"Only all of my life!" cried Mickey as they stepped inside.

The sun was only just beginning to rise outside the TARDIS, which had landed on a small cliff facing Hogwarts. Rose and Mickey, who had left the TARDIS with wide, childish grins, felt that they had never been more disappointed in their lives. The castle, which they had imagined to be grand and glorious appeared to be in complete ruins.

"You took us to book Seven, didn't you?" said Mickey, peering at the stony remains. "Just after the battle of Hogwarts?"

"No," the Doctor sighed, shaking his head and pointing, "look."

Rose peered at the small section of sky which was still as blue as the TARDIS, to where the Doctor was pointing. Just above the ruins of the castle, there was a strange green trail of light, outlining the shape of a skull from whose mouth something was slithering out….

"The Dark mark," muttered Mickey, staring up at the sickly green omen in awe, "that means that, well, that -"

"Dumbledore has just died." said the Doctor dully. "We're here at the end of the Sixth book, _Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince_."

"But why? And how come the castle is in shambles?" Rose demanded. At this, the Doctor began critically inspecting the castle, almost squinting as he mouthed 'shambles' with an apparent question mark.

"Oh, that?" he said at last. "That's just one of the anti-muggle protection spells, in case any curious non-magical folk happen to pass by. They can't have ordinary people charging into Britain's finest school of witchcraft and wizardry, can they?"

Rose opened her mouth to retort, shut it and opened it again at last with, "Wait a minute, how come _you_ see Hogwarts, Doctor?"

The Doctor shrugged. "I guess I'm a bit of an in-betweener, neither a muggle nor a wizard. Probably mistook me for a magical creature of sorts."

Rose gave him a sly grin.

"Magical? You?" she teased.

The Doctor took this comment with his usual humility. "Yeah, I can be pretty magical sometimes… can't I?" he winked at her before growing serious again. "Anyway, I'm here on Dumbledore's orders, his last request."

Before Rose or Mickey had time to pry anything more from the Doctor, the most heart-rending of sounds echoed off of every rock on the shoreline and every ripple of the lake. It was the most beautiful thing Rose had ever heard in her life, and it was growing louder. She could now feel her heartstrings vibrating to the mournful resonance of the voice which easily surpassed any description of beauty she knew.

During the entire song, the Doctor had been gazing off into the distance vaguely, his mind apparently wandering unbidden through the saddest parts of space and time he had yet encountered. As the song reached its climax, he leaned against the TARDIS' door and looked up at the sky forlornly. Rose could've sworn that she saw a tear begin to form in his eyes.

The early morning light was just beginning to touch the castle, almost obscuring the dark mark above it, when the song ended. The Doctor sighed and watched as a dark spot in the sky, which had been circling the lake, slowly began riding the golden rays of sunlight towards them.

He stepped away from the TARDIS, stretching out his arm just as the black shape became a gorgeous red bird, the size of a swan. It flew over to them, flapping its wings to slow down its speed before lightly perching on the proffered arm.

Rose smiled and was about to say something when saw the Doctor's face and stopped. The Doctor had taken a tissue from his pocket and was now gently wiping away a single tear from the phoenix's eye.

"So is this what you want, then?" he asked the bird solemnly. "To run away from it all?"

The phoenix cried mournfully and the Doctor nodded.

"Well, you've certainly picked the right place." the Doctor positioned his arm so that the swan-like bird was now facing his companions. "Rose, Mickey, this is Fawkes the Phoenix."

"I kinda figured that one out for myself, thanks." said Mickey, eyeing the bird with ill-disguised wonder.

Rose reached out towards Fawkes and began stroking his warm head. The phoenix closed his eyes and began rubbing his head against her hand, cooeing sweetly. She frowned, however, as something the Doctor had said earlier raced through her thoughts. "So we're taking Fawkes? But I thought you said that if anything important left this world then the Harry Potter world would disappear forever."

"Yes, this world would disappear _if_ we were taking him, but we're not. He's decided to come with us, that's all." said the Doctor significantly as they once more entered the TARDIS with Fawkes in tow. "Like Fluffy, see? Well, perhaps you don't. I suppose the best explanation is that,"

The Doctor cleared his throat before continuing, "'he understood at last what Dumbledore had been trying to tell him. It was, he thought, the difference between being dragged into the arena to face a battle to the death and walking into the arena with your head held high. Some people, perhaps, would say that there was little to choose between the two ways, but Dumbledore knew — and so do I, thought Harry, with a rush of fierce pride, and so did my parents — that there was all the difference in the world.'"

"To choose to be capable of something is to almost always be capable of that thing, which doesn't just make a difference in the world, but in the universe itself. The Time Turners were devices never able to make such a choice. They would always have had to be stolen from their world."

Rose was lost but decided that the explanations would only get more and more complicated with each new attempt, so she instead took it on faith that things would turn out alright. Besides, she might get another paragraphed quotation if she asked for another explanation.

Once inside the TARDIS, the phoenix began inspecting everything, flying around each archway and taking in the sights and sounds of its new dwelling place. Unfortunately, he chose his first exploration of muggle gadgetry to be wiring and exploded before the Doctor could think to pull him away from the TARDIS consul.

The ashes of what had been a very gorgeous bird began to cascade down from the consul's side, filling the stunned silence like sand dribbling through an hour glass. The Doctor was the quickest to recover, reaching into the pile and picking out a baby bird, sweeping away the remaining cinders from between the levers. The little bird, which looked like it would be empathizing with the tale of the ugly duckling, gave a cheery, sort of dazed chirp.

The silence that followed this traumatic event was too much for Rose.

"So, is that what it was like?" she said slowly. "Raising Time Lord children and all?"

"Yeah," the Doctor said, pocketing the baby phoenix for its own safety, "exactly like Time Lord children. Though they usually knew when not to touch something. Fawkes will just have to learn the hard way, it seems."

Mickey at last managed to permanently break the silence. "When we were up on the spaceship, we read all of the Harry Potter books."

"Glad to see you're improving yourself, Mickey." commented the Doctor.

Mickey chose to ignore this. "Anyway, there was no mention of you in there. Why?"

"Paradox." replied the Doctor. "It's a Potter Paradox. When the clockwork men entered the wizarding world, they changed everything, so I had to go in and help the story along, which then altered it slightly. Of course, once the series had run its course, it would autocorrect itself, making the best connections available in plotline while eliminating any superfluous details. So it should be back to the original version of the stories. They probably won't even remember me…." he sighed but then added cheerfully. "It's amazing what the Universe can sort out if it really wants to. I'm just here for the rest."

"So, you got deleted." Rose summed up.

The Doctor looked at her dumbstruck. "No, I was part of a never ending cycle which involves -"

"You got deleted!" shouted Mickey, laughing.

Rose gave Mickey a reproachful glare before whispering to the Doctor. "Maybe, in your signed copy, the one you were talking to us about earlier, she wrote a little bit more, mentioning you or something?"

He shook his head. "Nah, she wouldn't. I expect that my existence in their world only lasted for a millisecond in the planning at most."

"Still, it doesn't hurt to look." Rose persisted. "Where is it, anyway?"

"Somewhere in the library, next to the swimming pool, I think…." he didn't meet her eyes as he began fiddling with a few switches on the consul. "I dunno, I suppose I lost it."

"Lost it?" repeated Rose incredulously. "How can you lose a first edition, signed copy of _Deathly Hallows _when you were all chuffed about it earlier to-"

"Tell you what," interrupted the Doctor, "since you couldn't go to Hogwarts, perhaps Hogwarts can come to you. Why don't I just drop you two off at the Wizarding World of Harry Potter, down in Universal Studios, Orlando Florida, Opening Day. What do you say to that?"

While Mickey whooped and cheered, Rose continued to watch the Doctor. "Aren't you coming too?"

"Nah, I've seen enough of the Harry Potter world for one day." before Rose could argue further, he added, indicating the lump in his suit coat pocket. "Besides, someone should keep an eye on Fawkes for a while, until he gets used to the TARDIS."

The Doctor pulled one last lever and the TARDIS began to shake, transporting them. Rose laughed as the TARDIS jerked and rattled about, watching Mickey, who still hadn't quite perfected the art of travelling Time Lord style, struggle to maintain his grip on the consul. When the TARDIS stopped shaking, Mickey was panting, hangng onto a nearby handrail and shaking his head.

"I'm never gonna get used to that!" he panted.

"Well, you'll have plenty of time to try later." said the Doctor, pulling out his psychic paper and handing it off to Rose. "You'll be VIP guests, which should allow you to visit any part of the studios that takes your fancy, ride all of the rides and pick out whatever you'd like at the gift shops."

"Are you sure you don't want to come along?" she asked again, but the Doctor remained firmly rooted where he stood.

"I think I'd just like some peace and quiet for a while, perhaps I'll even read a book."

To hide her disappointment, Rose laughed. "As long as you don't start reading in the swimming pool again. That really is one of the most ridiculous ideas you've ever come up with, you know."

"You lot read books in the bath tub." he argued defensively. "I really don't see what the difference is."

Rose rolled her eyes. This wasn't the first time she'd had to lecture him on books in pools. "It's a _swimming_ pool. You're supposed to _swim_ in it, not read. Besides, it isn't like water or chlorine are exactly good for books."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right." he muttered, with perfectly feigned sheepishness. "Have fun out there."

Rose shook her head, smiling as she pocketed the psychic paper, following Mickey out the door and into the crowded streets of Orlando, Florida's Universal Studios. Seconds after the door had closed she opened it again, poking her head inside. "Anything we can get you, from the gift shop?"

"Maybe a Time Turner, just for fun," he mused, "since I couldn't nick any of the real ones."

"Speaking of Time Turners," said Rose above the cacophony of the muggle Wizarding World which was coming in from the outside, "we finally figured out why the clockwork men were so eager to get their hands on those Time Turners."

"Oh?" he said, looking up at her from the consul.

She nodded. "Yeah, it was all in their data systems. Turns out that the man who commissioned the ship, well, that's what he named it: _The Time Turner_. His daughter was a huge fan of the series and thought the ship's design looked like the film version of Hermione's."

"Really?" the Doctor wondered, then shook his head as everything fit into place. "I suppose, being as thick as they were, the clockwork men took the name of the ship too literally. Thought they had to power it with actual Time Turners when they first ran out of 'parts' to build it with. They would've had to get creative and a brain running off cogs isn't always very good at that…."

"How old was she, the commissioner's daughter?" he asked curiously.

"Twenty-eight." Rose grinned. "Probably one of those kids you were talking about earlier, still waiting to receive her letter from Hogwarts, 'even after her eleventh birthday.'"

The Doctor smiled. "Probably."

The Doctor waited for a moment, to be sure that Rose was, in fact, off enjoying herself outside of the TARDIS before he took Fawkes from his pocket.

"Think they're gone now?" he asked the phoenix conspiratorially.

Fawkes sang a note of confirmation and the Doctor set the tiny birdling on his shoulder, bending down over a grill near the consul and pulling it up.

"Let's have a look at that first edition, shall we?" he said, digging inside the cavity. After a minute of searching through the many items collected there, the Doctor's hand emerged carrying the last of the Harry Potter novels. "Just in case."

The truth was that he'd only gotten this copy a few weeks ago, when his previous one had sustained massive damage after it had been dropped into the TARDIS' swimming pool. Knowing Rose, who would've laughed at him for reading what she'd consider a children's book in the pool, again, he had decided to get a newly signed first edition without her. And why not get it at the official 2007 release party down in London?

Things for him in London would've been uneventful if, in the queue, he hadn't been standing next to a girl who clearly had no idea what she was talking about. Of course, upon reflection, since she hadn't had time to read her copy of the book she _wouldn't_ have known what she was talking about… but the hints in five and six had been really, very _obvious_. She should've _known_ that Snape was innocent and that he was in love with his childhood sweetheart Lily Evans, so the Doctor really hadn't been spoiling anything!

Unfortunately security, who'd been listening in on his conversation, had also noticed that the author was staring up at him with her pen hanging motionlessly in the air, and thought otherwise. Five very awkward minutes later, the Doctor found himself in a small office answering questions with his psychic paper and sincerely wondering if calling U.N.I.T. to get him out of the mess might actually be necessary. Eventually, a security guard came in with what he claimed was a signed copy of the book, telling the Doctor that, though it was complimentary from the author, they would only give it to him if he promised to leave the premises directly.

Once he had arrived back in the TARDIS, however, he'd hidden it, too embarrassed to actually read what she'd written there, in case she was swearing at him. After all, that had been what H.G. Wells had done when the Doctor had lectured him on the numerous mistakes contained in _The Time Machine_. He'd constrained himself to reading the second edition of _that_ book ever since.

But, after what Rose had said, the Doctor thought that perhaps there might be something else. Something better. As he sat down on his chair, Fawkes hopped down from off his shoulder, so that he could better see the book, resting on the Doctor's knee. The Doctor stroked the bird's head absently, building up the nerve to finally peek inside _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_.

At last, The Doctor took a deep breath and opened the book J.K. Rowling had given him.

To my dear Doctor,

Of course it was happening inside your head, but why on earth should that mean that it was not real?

Though I had once thought to put you in between the covers of my books, I regret to say that the notion of editing such a thing bade me to do otherwise. Neither a book nor a series of books could possibly contain all of the adventures you have had and will yet enjoy.

My best wishes to you and your current companions. Rather than bidding you goodbye, I would like to simply say _Allons-y_ Doctor!

_They will always remember you._

He perused the book for a few minutes, occasionally taking his hand from the phoenix's head to turn a page, and then he shut it gently, smiling.


	9. Chapter 9

_Prologue/Epilogue_

_Captain Jack Harkness receives a Helping Hand_

_From the episode: The Christmas Invasion_

There was shouting in the streets of London and, for that matter, all over the planet Earth. It was Christmas morning and, instead of waking up to a stack of presents underneath the Christmas tree, the world was waking up to an invasion. The alien sort.

There were no lasers, yet, but there was about a third of the world's population, dressed in pyjamas and bathrobes, standing on top of all of the Earth's tall buildings, waiting for the order to jump.

Captain Jack Harkness was standing in the shadows, looking down from the safety of the second story of the Powell Estate, watching what was going on bellow him. Rose and Mickey had just approached the TARDIS which was parked in the middle of the courtyard. Upon first seeing it there, Jack had rolled his eyes. The Doctor, no matter how much anyone else tried to reason with him, always assumed no one would ever notice that big blue box of his. Still, Jack thought, parking it in the middle of the Powell Estate was going too far even for the Doctor. He'd make sure to tell him that once their timelines could cross again.

That was the reason why Jack only ever watched Rose and Mickey these days. He could never be quite sure if they'd met him yet, let alone if they'd left him dead on Satellite Five. Unfortunately, he hadn't died permanently. Dying was easy, living and dying over and over again was something else. Something that he'd been living with ever since.

Jack peered down at the courtyard now, his head tilted to one side in confusion. Rose and Mickey were hauling an unconscious someone over to the TARDIS. That someone had brown hair and was wearing a bathrobe and pyjamas just like almost everyone else in London. Perhaps they'd decided to take him and run a few tests on him or something, but Jack really wasn't sure. Knocking people out and kidnapping them wasn't, in his experience, the Doctor's usual style. He wanted to investigate further, but if the Doctor was having a P.J. party, as fun as it would be to join in, it still wasn't his business yet.

He watched Rose and Mickey enter the TARDIS, then Rose's mother as she went in as well and then came back out, shouting something about getting supplies. The TARDIS door shut and, moments later, the blue box disappeared.

This was more surprising than the Doctor having a P.J. party. The TARDIS never just disappeared. It flashed in and out and made noises worse than an asthmatic Chihuahua. This was soundless, like teleportation….

Captain Jack looked up to the sky where the alien invader's landmass of a ship was situated. Whatever had happened likely involved them. Perhaps they'd done a scan of the Earth and discovered that there was some sort of alien technology parked in the courtyard of the Powell Estate.

He quickly found the flight of stairs that led down into the courtyard and began running off just as Rose's mother came out. As Jack sprinted away, he could hear her shouting out Rose and Mickey's names, excitement filling his being. For the first time in hundreds of years of waiting for the Doctor, this was something different. Something new! Something that would bring him that much closer to returning to the TARDIS!

The people in the streets were too busy staring up at the one-third of their friends, family and other such relations who stood on the rooftops to take much notice of one man running past them. Or for that matter two….

Jack had been trying to shove his way through the crowd, towards an open area to get a better view of the ship when another man pushed past him. The man was a bit thinner and didn't need to force his way through a crowd so much as to merely navigate through it instead. He wore a trench coat, which Jack thought was nice, and a brown suit which was _very_ nice.

In the clearing, the man in the brown suit turned around and looked up at the sky towards the ship. The glasses were a nice touch, but there was something familiar about the hair, and the face for that matter as well….

And then Jack's mouth fell open. It was the man Rose and Mickey had taken into the TARDIS minutes before. Jack allowed himself to be partially absorbed by the crowd to prevent the man from seeing him.

The man in the brown suit was looking about him wildly now, talking to no one in particular. "I'm going to need some more space. Don't know where exactly _here_ it's going to land."

There was a collective gasp from the crowd, who were still watching the roofline. Jack looked up at the people standing on the tops of the buildings. All of them were moving, with varying degrees of shock and terror on their faces at discovering themselves to be within inches of certain death. The crowds of people down below were now rushing to the buildings to retrieve their loved ones. Jack allowed himself to be carried away by the crowd, and when it had brought him to a convenient side street, he broke off and hid in the shadows to watch the mystery man.

"Convenient." said the man in the brown suit, who was now standing in the abandoned street. He shook his head and laughed to himself. "Blood Control, that never works! Ahh, the look on Rose's face when I pressed that red button was priceless…."

The man in the brown suit became serious in a flash, eyeing the ship expectantly.

"Come on…." he muttered to himself. "Shouldn't be much longer…."

The someone reached into his trench coat and pulled out a glass canister which he, against every known law of dimensions or tailoring, had managed to stuff into a pocket. The canister was filled with some type of clear liquid. The man hurriedly twisted off the black lid, pocketing it without once allowing his eyes to leave the sky.

"Here it comes…." he breathed.

Jack looked from the man up to the sky where something was indeed falling, rapidly. It was small, just a black dot, but it was coming their way. The man in the brown suit positioned himself in the street and then –

There was a splash, followed by a shout. Jack felt his jaw drop as the man held up the glass canister which now contained a severed hand. As he replaced the black lid on the canister, the hand began to glow and the clear liquid inside started bubbling.

"Oh," breathed the man happily, "you still remember me. Hello!"

He waved his right hand at the encased one. Even from Jack's vantage point he could tell that they were identical. The man was beaming. "Meet your replacement. Still has a slight weakness in the dorsal tubercle, though."

The current right hand went inside the man's trench coat and pulled out a small metal device. Jack stared at it numbly. It was the Doctor's Sonic Screwdriver.

"Remember this old thing? No, of course you wouldn't. Never had time for a proper introduction." said the man, who was now pointing it at the hand from every angle he could think of. "Looks like none of the tissue has died yet and the DNA is -"

The man put the contained hand into the crook of his arm and scanned his right hand with the Screwdriver. When finished, he looked at his device. "An identical match. Oh, that's brilliant. That means that you'd be able to hold Regenerative energy, the same as me, so I wouldn't have to change if I died. A bio-matching receptacle, well, at least I hope so. Rose would kill me if I changed faces on her again."

The liquid seemed to bubble more as the hand continued to glow, mirroring the man's excitement.

"Haven't said this in a while, but," the man said, looking at the hand in awe, "you are fantastic!"

Jack's heart almost stopped as the word 'fantastic' rang in his ears, calling back old memories.

"No." he whispered, staring from the man to the Sonic Screwdriver and then back again.

"Brilliant." repeated the man who Captain Jack now realized could only be one person. It wasn't the brooding form in the leather jacket that he remembered, but there was no doubt now who this man was.

"Doctor?" he breathed.

The Doctor seemed to reawaken from his musings over the hand and pocketed his Sonic Screwdriver. "Better not be late for the start of term. I don't think the headmaster would like that very much. Come on, now," he added to the original hand, "best be off! This could be the start of a beautiful friendship, eh?"

The Doctor began to run off, back down the street. Captain Jack hesitated for a moment before reasoning that this new version of the Doctor must surely be outside of his timeline, so, why not follow? He ran out of the shadows and into the road. There, he quickly scanned the street and caught sight of the hem of the Doctor's trench coat as the Doctor darted around a corner. Jack began running after him with everything he had, reaching the corner, turning and –

There was a loud popping noise just behind him. Jack spun around in time to see the glass canister, which he'd watched the Doctor carry off, appear in midair from a source of golden light. It fell, hitting him on the head and knocking him down to the concrete road.

The blow was powerful enough to kill a man, but Jack tended not to stay dead for long. He opened his eyes and blinked. There, in front of him was the encased hand, which cast the faintest of golden glows on the surrounding pavement. The liquid inside the canister was still bubbling, though more faintly than it had while the Doctor held it.

_Vworp, vworp._

Jack quickly looked up from the canister and helplessly watched as the TARDIS, which was only a few feet in front of him, phased in and out. The glowing and bubbling in the canister began to subside. Then the Doctor was gone.

Captain Jack Harness stood up slowly. After all these years, the Doctor had been right there and Jack had come up short. He had been five feet from returning back to life in the TARDIS.

As Jack hit the side of a building, cursing in frustration, the glow of the hand stopped entirely. It had used the regenerative energy which the Doctor had placed inside of it to transport back to where it was always meant to have been. It was vaguely aware that it would be rejoining its master soon enough, when the Captain's timeline and the Doctor's would finally reunite.

Though the hand wasn't exactly sentient, it knew that all was _truly_ well now.


End file.
